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'  TIItOLCGlCAL  SKSllNARY.f 

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A 

tAREFUL  AND  STRICT 

INQUIRY 

INTO     THE 

MODERN  PREVAILING  NOTIONS 

OF    THAT 

FREEDOM  OF  WILL, 

WHICH  IS  SUPPOSED  TO  BE  ESSENTIAL 
TO 

MORAL  AGENCY,  VIRTUE  AND  VICE, 

REWARD  AND  PUNISHMENT,  PRAISE 

AND  BLAME. 

BY  JONATHAN  EDWARDS,  A.  M. 

Rom.  ix.  16.  It  is  not  of  him  that  ivilkth. 

\ 

ALBANY : 

PRINTED  FOR  AND   SOLD  BY  WHITING,  BACKUS  Sc  WHITING, 

NO.  45,  STATE-STREET  : 

SOLD  ALSO  BY  THEM  AT  THEIR  STORES  IN  SCHENECTADY,  UTICA  AND 

CANANDAIGUA. 

1804, 


THE 

PREFACE, 


Many  find  much  fault  with  the   calling  profefTing 
Chriftians,  that  differ  one  from  another  in  feme  mat- 
ters of  opinion,  by  di(Lin6l  names  ;  efpecialiy  calling 
them  by  the  names  of  particular  men,  who  have  dif- 
tinguifiied  themfelves  as  maintainers  and  promoters 
of   thofe  opinions  ;  as  the  calling   fome  profeffing 
Chriftians  Arminians,  from  Arminius  ;  others  Ariaris, 
from  Arius  ;  others  Socinians,  from  Socinus,  and  the 
like.     They  think  it  unjuft  in  itfelf ;  as  it  feems  to 
fuppofe  and  fugged,  that  the  perfons  marked  out  by 
thefe  names,  received  thofe  dotlrines  which  they  en- 
tertain, out  of  regard  to,  and  reliance  on,  thofe  men 
after  whom  they   are  named  ;   as  though  they  made 
them  their  rule  ;  in  the  fame  manner,  as  the  follow- 
ers of  Christ  are  called  Chnjiians ;  after  his  name, 
whom  they  regard  and  depend  upon,  as  their  great 
Head  and  Rule.     Whereas,    this  is  an  unjuft  and 
groundiefs  imputation  on   thofe  that  go  under  the 
fore-mentioned   denominations.       Thus    [uxy  they) 
there  is  not  theleaft  ground  to  fuppofe  that  the  chief 
Divines,  who  embrace  the  fcheme  of  do6trine  which 
is,  by  many,  called  Arminianifm,  believe  it  the  more, 
becaufe  Arminius  believed  it :   and  that  there  is  no 
reafon  to  think  any  other,  than  that  they  fincerely  and 
impartially  ftudy  the  holy  Scriptures,   and  enquire 
I'fter  the  mind  of  Chrift,  with  as  much  judgment  and 
fincerity,    as    any    of  thole   that   call  them  by  thefe 
names  ;   that  they  feek  after  truth,  and  are  not  care- 
ful whether  they  think  exattly  as  Arminius  did;  yea, 
that,  in  fome  things,  they  a6lually  differ  from  him> 


iv  The  preface. 

This  praftice  is  alfo  eftccmed  actually  injurious  on 
this  account,  that  it  is  fuppored  naturally  to  lead  the 
multitude  to  imagine  the  difFerence  between  perfons 
thus  named  and  others,  to  be  greater  than  it  is  ;  yea, 
as  though  it  were  fo  great,  that  they  muft  be,  as  it 
were,  another  fpccics  of  beings.  And  they  objedl 
againfl  it  as  aiiling  from  an  uncharitable,  narrow, 
contradcd  fpirit  ;  which,  they  fay,  commonly  in- 
clines perfons  to  conline  all  that  is  good  to  them- 
felves,  and  their  own  party,  and  to  make  a  wide  dif- 
tin6lion  between  thcmfelves  and  others,  and  iligma- 
tize  thofe  that  differ  from  them  with  odious  names. 
They  fay,  moreover,  that  the  keeping  up  luch  a  dif- 
tin£lion  of  names  has  a  dire6l  tendency  to  uphold 
diftancc  and  difafFedion,  and  keep  alive  mutual  hat- 
red among  ChriRians,  who  ought  all  to  be  united  in 
friendihip  and  charity,  however  they  cannot,  in  all 
things,  think  alike. 

I  confefs  thefe  things  are  very  plaufible.  And  I 
will  not  deny,  that  there  are  fome  unhappy  confe- 
quences  of  this  diflindion  of  names,  and  that  men's 
infirmities  and  evil  difpofitions  often  make  an  ill  im- 
provement of  it.  But  yet,  1  humbly  conceive,  thefe 
objedions  are  carried  far  beyond  reafon.  The  gen- 
erality of  mankind  are  difpofed  enough,  and  a  great 
deal  too  much,  to  uncharitablenefs,  and  to  be  cenfo- 
rious  and  bitter  towards  thofe  that  differ  from  them 
in  religious  opinions  :  which  evil  temper  of  mind 
will  take  occafion  to  exert  itfelf  from  many  things  in 
thcmfelves  innocent,  ufeful  and  necellary.  But  yet 
there  is  no  neccffity  to  fuppofe,  that  the  thus  diftin- 
guilhing  perfons  of  different  opinions  by  different 
names,  ariles  mainly  from  an  uncharitable  fpirit.  It 
may  arife  troni  the  difpohtion  there  is  in  mankind 
(whom  God  has  diRmguilhcd  with  an  ability  and 
inclination  for  fpcech)  to  improve  the  benefit  of  lan- 
guage, in  the  proper  ufc  and  dcf\gn  of  names,  given 


The  preface.  v 

to  things  which  they  have  often  occafion  to  fpeak  of, 
or  fignify  their  minds  about ;  which  is  to  enable 
them  to  exprefs  their  idear  with  eafe  and  expedition, 
without  being  encumbered 'with  an  obfcure  and  dif- 
ficult circumlocution.  And  the  thus  diflinguiftiing 
perlons  of  different  opinions  in  religious  rnatterr  may 
imply  nor  infer,  any  more  than  that  there  is  a  differ, 
ence,  and  that  the  difference  is  fuch  as  we  find  we 
have  often  occafion  to  take  notice  of.  and  make  men- 
tion of.  That  which  we  have  frequent  occafion  to 
fpeak  of,  (whatever  it  be,  that  gives  the  occafion) 
this  wants  a  name  :  and  it  is  always  a  defe6i  in  lan- 
guage, in  fuch  cafes,  to  be  obliged  to  make  ufe  of  a 
defcription,  inftead  of  a  name.  Thus  we  have  oftca 
occafion  to  fpeak  of  thofe  who  are  the  defcendants 
of  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  France,  who  were  fub- 
ie6ls  or  heads  of  the  government  of  that  land,  and 
fpake  the  language  peculiar  to  it  ;  in  didindion 
from  the  defcendants  of  the  inhabitants  of  Spain, 
who  belonged  to  that  community,  and  fpake  the  lan- 
guage of  that  country.  And  therefore  we  find  the 
great  n?ed  of  dillin6l  names  to  fignify  thefe  different 
forts  of  people,  and  the  great  convenience  of  thofe 
diftinguifhing  words,  French  and  Spaniards  ;  by 
which  the  fignincation  of  our  minds  is  quick  and 
eafy,  and  our  fpeech  is  delivered  from  the  burden  of 
a  continual  reiteration  of  diffufe  defcriptions,  with 
which  It  muff  otherwife  be  embarraffed. 

That  the  difference  of  the  opinions  of  thofe  who, 
in  their  general  fcheme  of  divinity,  agree  with  thefe 
two  noted  men,  Calvin  and  Aiminius,  is  a  thing 
there  is  often  occafion  to  fpeak  of,  is  what  the  prac- 
tice of  the  latter  itfelf  confeffes  ;  who  are  often,  in 
their  difcourfes  and  writing?,  taking  notice  of  the 
luppofed  abfurd  and  pernicious  opinions  of  the 
former  fort.  And  therefore  the  making  ufe  of  dif- 
ferent names  in  this  cafe   cannot  reafonablv  be  oh- 


V 


vi  The  preface. 

jefted  againft,  or  condemned,  as  a  thing  which  muft 
come  from  fo  bad  a  caufe  as  they  aflign.  It  is  eafy 
to  be  accounted  for,  without  luppoling  it  to  arife 
from  r.ny  other  fource,  than  the  exigence  and  natur- 
al tendency  of  the  (late  of  things  ;  confidering  the 
faculty  and  difpofition  God  has  given  to  mankind, 
to  cxprcis  things  which  rhcv  have  frequent  occafion 
to  mention,  by  certain  diitinguifliing  names.  It  is 
an  effcd  that  is  fimilar  to  what  we  fee  arife,  in  in- 
numerable cafes  which  are  parallel,  where  the  caufe 
is  not  at  all  blame-worthy. 

Nevcithelefs,  at  fivft,  I  had  thoughts  of  carefully 
avoiding  the  ufe  of  the  appelhuion,  Arminian,  in  this 
treatife.  But  I  foon  found  1  (hould  be  put  to  great 
difficulty  by  it;  and  that  my  difcouife  would  be  fo 
encumbered  with  an  often  repeated  circumlocution, 
inflrad  of  a  name,  which  would  exprefs  the  thing  in- 
tended, as  well  and  better,  thai  I  altered  my  purpofe. 
And  therefore  I  mud  afk  the  excufe  of  fuch  as  are 
apt  to  be  offended  with  things  of  this  nature,  that  I 
have  fo  freely  ufed  the  term  Arminian  m  theJollow- 
ing  dilcourfe.  I  profefs  it  to  be  without  any  de- 
IjgD,  to  fligmatize  pcrfons  of  any  fort  with  a  name  of 
reproach,  or  at  all  to  make  them  appear  moreodious. 
If,  when  I  had  occafion  to  fpeak  of  thofe  Divines  who 
are  commonly  called  by  this  name,  I  had,  inllead  of 
Uv  ing  ihi:m  Ar?Kini(i7is,  called  them  thrfc  men,  as  Dr. 
Whiiby  does  Calvinijlic  Divines ;  it  probably  would 
not  have  been  taken  any  better,  o;  thought  to  (hew  a 
bitter  temper,  or  more  good  manners.  I  have  done 
as  I  would  be  done  by,  in  this  matter.  H-jwever 
the  term  Ca!viniftic\s,  in  thefe  diys,  among  mofl,  a 
term  of  greater  reproach  th.m  the  term  Anninian ; 
yet  I  (hnu  d  not  take  it  at  all  amifs,  to  be  called  a 
Calvmfjl,  lof  dJlindion'o  lake  :  though  I  utterly  dif- 
claim  a  dependence  on  Calvin,  or  believin^^  fhe 
(Jodrincs   which  1   hold,   becaufc   he  believed^  and 


The  preface.  vii 

taught  them;  and  cannot  juftly  be  charged  with  be- 
lieving in  every  thing  jufl:  as  he  taught. 

But,  left  I  fhould  really  be  an  occafion  of  injury 
to  i'ome  pertons,  I  v/ould  here  give  notice,  that 
though  I  generally  fpeak  of  that  do6lrine,  concern- 
ing Free- Will  and  moral  Agency,  which  I  oppofe,  as 
an  irminian  do6lnne  ;  yet  1  would  not  be  under- 
flood,  as  afferting  that  every  Divine  or  Author, 
whom  I  have  occalion  to  mention  as  maintaining 
that  dodtrine,  was  properly  an  Arminian,  or  one  of 
that  fort  which  is  commonly  called  by  that  name. — 
Some  of  them  went  far  beyond  the  Arminians :  and 
I  would  by  on  means  charge  Arfiiinians  in  general 
with  all  the  corrupt  do£lrine,  which  thefe  maintain- 
ed. Thus,  for  inilance,  it  would  be  very  injurious, 
if  I  fhould  rank  Arminian  Divines,  in  general,  with 
fuch  Authors  as  Mr.  Chubb.  I  doubt  not,  many 
of  them  have  fome  of  his  do&rines  in  abhorrence  ; 
though  he  agrees,  for  the  molt  part,  with  Arminians, 
in  his  notion  of  the  Freedom  of  the  Will.  And,  on 
the  other  hand,  though  I  fuppofe  this  notion  to  be  a 
leading  article  in  the  Arminian  fcheme,  that  which, 
if  purfued  in  its  confequences,  will  truly  infer,  or 
naturally  lead  to  all  the  reft ;  yet  1  do  not  charge  all 
that  have  held  this  do6lrine,  with  bein^  Arminians^ 
For  whaiever  may  be  the  confequences  of  the  doc- 
trine really,  yet  fome  that  hold  this  dodrine,  may  not 
own  nor  fee  thefe  confequences ;  and  it  would  be 
unjuft,  in  many  inflances,  to  charge  every  Author 
with  believing  and  maintaining  all  the  real  confe- 
quences of  his  avowed  do6lrines.  And  I  defire  it 
may  be  paiticuJarly  noted,  that  though  I  have  occa- 
fion, in  the  following  Dilcourfe,  often  to  mention 
the  Author  of  the  book,  enut'ed  An  EJfay  on  the  Fres» 
dom  oj  the  Will  in  God  and  the  Creature,  as  holdino- 
thiit  liu  ion  of  Freedom  of  Will,  wiiich  I  oppole; 
yet  I  do  not  mean  to  call  him  an  Arminian  :  how- 


Viii  The  PREFACE. 

ever,  in  that  cIo6tiine  he  agrees  with  Arminians,  and 
departs  from  the  current  and  general  opinion  of  Cat- 
vinijls.  If  the  Author  of  that  EfTay  be  the  fame  as 
it  is  commonly  afcribed  to,  he,  doubtlefs,  was  not 
one  that  ought  to  bear  that  name.  But  however 
oood  a  Divine  he  was  in  many  rcrpe61s,  yet  that  par- 
ticular Arminian  doQrine  which  he  maintained,  is 
never  the  better  for  being  held  by  fuch  an  one ;  nor 
is  there  lefs  need  of  oppofing  it  on  that  account ; 
but  rather  is  there  the  more  need  of  it ;  as  it  will  be 
likely  to  have  the  more  pernicious  influence,  for  be- 
intr  taught  by  a  Divine  of  his  name  and  charadler  ; 
fuppofing  the  dodiinc  to  be  wrong,  and  in  itfelf  to 
be  of  an  ill  tendency. 

I  have  nothing  further  to  fay  by  way  of  preface ; 
but  only  to  bcfpeak  the  Reader's  candor,  and  calm 
attention  to  what  I  have  written.  The  fubje£l  is  of 
luch  importance,  as  to  de7nand  dittcnt'ion,  znd  the  mofl 
thorough  confideration.  Of  all  kinds  of  knowledge 
that  we  can  ever  obtain,  the  knowledge  of  God,  and 
the  knowledge  of  ourfelves,  are  the  mod  important. 
As  religion  is  the  great  bufinefs,  for  which  we  are 
created,  and  on  which  our  happinefs  depends  ;  and 
as  religion  confiQs  in  an  intercourfe  bet^v^en  our- 
felves and  our  Maker;  and  fo  has  its  foundation  in 
God's  nature  and  ours,  and  in  the  relation  that  God 
and  wc  fland  in  to  each  other;  therefore  a  true  knowl- 
edge of  both  muft  be  needful,  in  order  to  true  reli- 
gion. Ij  It  the  knowledge  of  ourfelves  ronfifls  chief- 
ly in  right  apprehcnfions  concerning  thofe  two  chief 
faculties  of  our  nature,  the  Undcrjlandin^  and  Will, 
Both  are  very  important :  yet  the  fcience  of  the  lat- 
ter mull  be  confcllcd  to  be  of  greatefl  moment;  in- 
afmuch  as  all  virtue  and  religion  have  their  feat  more 
immediately  in  the  Will,  confiiling  more  efpecially 
in  right  ads  and  habits  of  this  faculty.  And  the 
grand  queftion  about  the    Ficedom  of  the  Will^  is 


The  preface.  ix 

the  main  point  that  belongs  to  the  fcience  of  the 
Will.  Therefore,  I  fay,  the  importance  of  this  fub- 
je£t  greatly  demands  the  attention  of  Chriftians,  and 
efpecially  of  Divines.  Bat  as  to  my  manner  of  hand- 
ling the  fubjeft,  I  will  be  far  from  prefuming  to  fay, 
that  it  is  fuch  as  demands  the  attention  of  the  reader 
to  what  I  have  written.  I  am  ready  to  own,  that  in 
this  matter  I  depend  on  the  reader's  courtefy.  But 
only  thus  far  I  may  have  fome  colour  for  putting  in 
a  claim ;  that  if  the  reader  be  difpofed  to  pafs  his 
cenfure  on  what  I  have  written,  I  may  be  fully  and 
patiently  heard,  and  well  attended  to,  before  I  am 
condemned.  However,  this  is  what  I  would  hum- 
bly ajk  of  my  readers  ;  together  with  the  prayers  of 
all  fmcere  lovers  of  truth,  that  I  may  have  much  of 
that  Spirit  which  Chriftpromifed  his  difciples,  which 
guides  into  all  truth ;  and  that  the  bleiTed  and  pow- 
erful influences  of  this  Spirit  would  make  truth  vic- 
torious in  the  world. 


GENERAL  TABLE 

OF  THE 

CONTENTS. 

PART     I. 


Wherein  are  ex-phlned  various  Terms  and  Things  belonging 
to  the  fubje£l  of  the  enfuing  difcourfe. 


s 


Pagt 

ECT.  I.  Goncernlng  the  Nature  of  the  Will,  I 

Sect.  II.  Concerning  the  Deter?7iination  ot  the  Willy  6 

Sect.  III.  Concerning  the  meaning   of  ihe  terms  Neceffity, 

Lnpojfibility,  Inability,  &c.  and  of  Contingence,  17 

Sect.  IV.  Of  the  diflinftion  of  natural  and  moral  NecefTity 

and  InabiHty,  27 

Sect.  V.  Concerning  the  Notion  ot  Liberty  and  oi  moral  A* 

gencyt  36 

P  A  R  T    II. 

Wherein  it  is  confidered,  whether  there  is,  or  can  be  anj^  fuch 
fort  ot  FreedOxM  of  Will,  as  that  wherein  Arminians 
place  the  EfFence  of  the  Liberty  of  all  moral  Agents  ;  and 
whether  any  fuch  thing  ever  was,  or  can  be  conceived  ot. 


S 


ECT.  I.  Shewing  the  manifeft  inconfiftence  of  the  Arminian 
Notion  ot  Liberty  ot  Will,  confifting  in  the  Will's  fdf' 
determining  Power^  42 


3,ii  The  contents. 

Page 
Skct.II.  Several  fuppofcd   ways  of  evading  the  foregoing 

RcaloninK  conlidercd,  j    rr  r  ■     ^7 

Sect    111    Whether  any  Event  whatioevcr,   and   Volition  in 

partuular.    can   come   to  pafs   wiifiout  a  Cavjt  ot  its  Exift- 

cnce,  ._        .  ,  r^    ^^^ 

Sect.  IV.  Whether  Volilion  can  arile  without  a  Laule. 
throui^h  the  Aclivily  ot  the  Nature  of  the  Soul,  62 

Sect.  V.  Shewma  that  \\  the  things  alTerted  in  thele  Evahons 
(hould  be  fuppoFed  to  be  true,  they  are  ahogether  imperti- 
nent, and  cannot  help  the  Caufe  ot  Arwiman  Liberty  ;  and 
how,  this  being  the  Hate  oi  the  cale,  Armiman  writers  are 
obliged  to  talk  inconj^f.tntly,  6y 

SicT.  VI.  Concerning   the    Will's   determining    in    things 
which  are  perle6\ly  inilijnent,  in  the  view  of  the  mind,  73 
Spxt.  VII.  Concerning  the  Notion  ot  Lilberty  of  Will  con. 
fi fling  in  Indifference,  82 

Sect.  VIU.  Concerning  the  fuppofed  Liberty  of  the  Will. 
as  oppofite  to  all  Necejfiiy\  95 

Sect.  IX.  Of  the  connexion  of  the  A61s  of  the  ^-Tz// with 
the  Ditlates  of  the  Underjlanding^  _  100 

Sect.  X.  Volition  neceffarily  connefted  with  the  Influence 
oi  Motives.  With  particular  obfervation  of  the  great  In- 
confiftency  of  Mr.  Chubb's  Ailenions  and  Reafonings,  a- 
bout  the  Freedom  ot  the  Will,  110 

Sect.  XI.  The  Evidence  ot  God's  certain  Fore-knowledge 
ot  the  Volitions  ot  moral  Agents,  128 

Sect.  Xll.  Goal's  certain  Fore- knowledge  o\  the  future  Vo- 
litions ot  moral  Agents,  inconjijient  with  fucha  Cpntingence 
oi  thofe  Volitions,  as  is  without  all  NccefTity,  153 

And  inters  a  NccefTity  ot  Volition,  as  much  as  an  ahfolute  De^ 
crce,  1^9 

Sect.  XIII.  Whether  we  fuppofe  the  Volitions  of  moral  A- 
gcnts  to  be  conncfted  with  any  thing  antecedent,  or  not, 
yet  thev  muft  be  necfJJ'ary^  in  iuch  a  fenie,  as  to  overthrow 
Armiman  Liberty,  170 

PART  m. 

Wherein  is  enquired,  whether  any  fuch  Liberty  of  Will  as 
Armxm&ns  hold,  be  neceirary  to  moral  Agency,  Virtue  and 
Vice,  Praife  and  Difpraife,  ^c, 

Oect.  I.  God's  moral  Excellency  necejfary,  yet  virtuous  and 
pratjc'worthy,  17^ 


The  contents.  xlii 

Page 

Sect.  II.  The  AQs  o\  the  Will  of  the  human  Soul  ot  J  e-' 
sys  Christ  ntccjfanly  holy^ytwirtuous^  praije -worthy ^ 
rewardable.  Sec.  180 

Sect.  III.  The  Cafe  ot  fuch  as  ^re  given  up  of'  God  to  Sin^ 
and  o\  tallen  Man  in  general,  proves  moral  Ntc(i[Jity  and 
Inability  to  be  conHftent  with  hlame-Tv  or  thine fs^  198 

Sect.  IV^.  Command,  and  Obligation  to  Obedience,  conJiJUnt 
with  moral  Inability  to  obey,  206 

Sect.  V.  T\i-6X  Sincerity  di  Dei'ires  and  Endeavours,  which 
is  fuppofed  to  exciife  in  the  non-performance  of  Things  ia 
themlelves  good,  particularly  confidered,  220 

Sect.  VI.  Liberty  of  Indifference  not  only  not  necejfary  to 
Virtue,  but  utterly  inconfijitnt  with  it ;  and  all,  eimer  vir- 
tuous or  vicious  Habits  or  Inclinations^  inconfiltcnt  with 
Armiman  Notions  of  Liberty,  and  moral  Agency,  230 

Sect.  Vil.  Armiman  Notions  ot  moral  Agency  inconfillent 
with  all  Influence  ot  Motive  and  Inducement,  in  cither  virtu- 
ous or  vicious  A6tions,  2^^ 

PART    IV. 

Wherein  the  chief  Grounds  of  the  Reafonings  of  Arjninians, 
in  Support  and  Defence  of  their  Notions  of  Liberty,  moral 
Agency,  o^c.  and  again/l  the  oppofite  Do6"irine,  are  con- 
fidered. 

Oect.  I.  The  Effcnce  of  the  Virtue  and  Vice  of  the  Difpo- 
fitions  ol  the  Heart,  and  Afts  of  the  V/ill,  lies  not  in  their 
Caufcs,  but  their  Nature,  249 

Sect.  II.  The  Falfinejs  and  Inconfi/hnce  of  that  metaphyfical 
Notion  of  Atlion  and  Agency,  which  feems  to  be  generally- 
entertained  by  the  Defenders  of  the  forementioned  Notions 
of  Liberty,  moral  Agency,  (^c.  ocy 

Sect.  III.  The  Reafons  why  fome  think  it  contrary  to  com- 
mon  Saijc,  to  fuppofe  Things  which  are  ntceffary,  to  be  wor- 
thy of  either  Praife  or  Blame,  266 

Sect.  IV.  It  is  agreeable  to  common  Sen/e,  and  the  naturai  Amo- 
tions of  Mankind,  to  fuppofe  moral  NecefTity  to  be  confift- 
ent  with  Praife  and  Blame,  Reward  and  Punifhmcnt,     27^ 

Sect.  V.  Concerning  thofe  Ohjtdions,  that  this  fcheme  oi:' 
Ncceffity  renders  all  Means  and  Endeavours  tor  the  avoid- 
ing of  Sin  or  the  obtaining  Virtue  and  Holinefs,  vain  and 
to  no  purpole  ;  and  that  it  makes  iMen  no  more  than  mere 
Machines,  in  affairs  oi  Morality  and  Religion,  sS^ 


xiv  The  CONTENTS. 

Page 
Sect.  VI.  Concerning  that  Ohjcflion  agalnft   the  Doftrine 

which  has  been  maintained,   thatit^^rd^j  with  i\iQ  Stoicd 

do61rinc  of  Fate,  and  the  Opinion  of  Mr.  Hobbes,  294 

Sect.  VII.    Concerning     the     Nccejfity     oi     the     Divine 

Will,  ^  298 

Sect.  VIII.  Some  further  ObjeBions  again fl   the  moral  Ne- 

cfjjiiy  of  God's  Volitions,  confidered,  310 

Sect.'^IX.  Concerning   that  ObjeSlion    againft  the  Dofirine 

which  has  been  maintained,  that  it  makes  God  the  Author 

o/Sin,  327 

Sect.   X.     Concerning     Sin's   Jirjl     Entrance     into     the 

World.  .     .348 

Sect.   XI.     Of  a  fuppofed  inconfijlence,  of  thefe  Principles 

with  God's  moral  char aB:cr^  356 

Sect.  XII.     Ot  a  (uppofed  Tendency  of  thefe  Principles  to 

Atheiffji  and  Liccntiou/nefs,  35^ 

Sect. "XII I.  Concerning  that  OhjeBion   againft  the  Reafon- 

jng  by  which  the    Calvimjiic  Dotlrine  is  I'upported,   that  it 

is  mctaphyjical  and  abjlrufe^  360 


THE    CONCLUSION. 

W  HAT  Treatment  this  Difcourfe  may  probably  meet   with 
from  fomc  perfons,  370 

Conjequences  concerning  feveral  Calviiujiic  DoElrines  ;  (uch  as 
univcr/al,  deci/ivc  Providence,  372 

The  total  Depravity  and  Corruption  of  Man's  Nature,        373 
Efficacious  Grace,  37^ 

An  univcrfal  and  abfolutc  Decree  ;  and  abfolute  elcinal,  per- 
fonal  Eletlton,  37^ 

Particular  Redemption,  ^yj 

Per/ever ance  of  Saint:,  378 

Concerning  the  Treatment  which  Calvini/iic  Writers  and  Di- 
vines have  met  with,  379 
The  Unhappinefs  ot  the  Change  lately  in  many  Protejlant 
Coiiniiies,  r^gj 
Thz  Bold nefs  of  fomc  Writers,  ibid 
The  excellent  ITf/dom  appearing  in  the  Ilo'y  Scriptures,    382 


PART     L 


Wherein  are  explained  and  Jlated  various  Terms  and 
Things  belonging  to  the  Subject  of  the  enfuing  Dif- 
courfe. 


Section     I, 


Concerning  the  Nature  of  the  Will, 

It  may  poflibly  be  thought,  that  there  is  no  great 
need  of  going  about  to  define  or  defcribe  the  Will ; 
this  word  being  generally  as  well  underftood  as  any 
other  words  we  can  ufe  to  explain  it :  and  fo  per- 
haps it  would  be,  had  not  philofophers,  metaphyfi- 
cians  and  polemic  divines  brought  the  matter  into 
obfcurity  by  the  things  they  have  faid  of  it.  But 
fince  it  is  fo,  I  think  it  may  be  of  fome  ufe,  and  will 
tend  to  the  greater  clearnefs  in  the  following  dif- 
courfe,  to  fay  a  few  things  concerning  it. 

And  therefore  I  obferve,  that  the  Will  (without 
any  metaphyfical  refining)  is  plainly,  That  by  which 
the  mind  choofes  any  thing.  The  faculty  of  the  Willis 
that  faculty  or  power  or  principle  of  mind  by  which 
it  is  capable  of  choojing  :  an  att  of  the  Will  is  the  fame 
as  an  a6l  of  choojing  or  choice. 

If  any  think  it  is  a  more  perfe61:  definition  of  the 
Will,  to  fay,  that  it  is  that  by  which  the  foul  either 

G 


2  The  Nature  of  the  Will.  Part  !• 

choofes  or  rcfitfts ;  I  am  content  with  it :  though  I 
think  that  it  is  enough  to  fay,  it  is  that  by  which 
the  foul  choofes  :  for  in  every  a6l  of  Will  whatfo- 
cvcr,  the  mind  choofes  one  thing  rather  than  anoth- 
er ;  it  choofes  fomething  rather  than  the  contrary,  or 
rather  than  the  want  or  non-exiftencc  of  that  thing. 
So  in  every  act  of  refufal,  the  mind  choofes  the  ab- 
fence  of  the  thing  refufed  ;  the  pofitive  and  the  neg- 
ative are  fet  before  the  mind  for  its  choice,  and  it 
choofes  the  negative  ;  and  the  mind's  making  its 
choice  in  that  cafe  is  properly  the  atl  of  the  Will ; 
the  Will's  determining  between  the  two  is  a  volunta- 
ry determining;  but  that  is  the  fame  thing  as  mak- 
ing a  choice.  So  that  whatever  names  we  call  the 
a6l  of  the  Will  by  choofing^  refujing,  approving,  dif^ 
approving,  liking,  dijlikmg,  embracing,  rcjeEling,  de^ 
iermining,  direding,  commanding,  forbidding,  inclining 
or  being  averfc,  a  being  pleafed  or  difpleafed  with  ;  all 
may  be  reduced  to  this  of  choofng.  For  the  foul  to 
a6i  voluntarily,  is  evermore  to  a6l  elc5lively, 

Mr.  Locke*  fays,  '•  The  Will  fignifies  nothing 
**  but  a  power  or  ability  io  prefer  or  choofe.**  And 
in  the  foregoing  page  fays,  *' The  Vford  preferring 
"  fcems  beft  to  exprefs  the  a6l  of  volition ;"  but 
adds,  that  *' it  does  it  not  precifely ;  for  (fays  he) 
**  though  a  man  would  prefer  flying  to  walking, 
*•  yet  who  can  fay  he  ever  wills  it  ?"  But  the  in- 
ftance  he  mentions  docs  not  prove  that  there  is  any 
thing  elfe  in  willing,  but  merely  preferring:  for  it 
fhould  be  conGdered  what  is  the  next  and  imme- 
diate obje6l  of  the  Will,  with  refpeft  to  a  man's 
walking,  or  any  other  external  adlion ;  which  is  not 
bcmg  removed  from  one  place  to  another;  on  the 
earth,  or  through  the  air  ;  thefe  are  remoter  obje6ls 
of  preference ;  but  fuch  or  (uch  an  immediate  exer- 
tion  of  himfclf.     The   thing  nextly  chofen  or  pre- 

*Human  Uaderftandios.     Edit.  7.  vol.  i.  p.  197. 


Sea.  I.  The  Nature  of  the  Will.  3 

ferred  when  a  man  wills  to  walk,  is  not  his  being 
removed  to  fuch  a  place  where  he  would  be,  but 
fuch  an  exertion  and  motion  of  his  legs  and  feet,  &c. 
in  order  to  it.  And  his  willing  fuch  an  alteration 
in  his  body  in  the  prefent  moment,  is  nothing  elfe 
but  his  choofing  or  preferring  fuch  an  alteration  in  his 
body  at  fuch  a  moment,  or  his  liking  it  better  than 
the  forbearance  of  it.  And  God  has  fo  made  and 
eftabhfhed  the  human  nature,  the  foul  being  united 
to  a  body  in  proper  ftate,  that  the  foul  preferring  or 
choofing  fuch  an  immediate  exertion  or  alteration  of 
the  body,  fuch  an  alteration  inftantaneoufly  follows. 
There  is  nothing  elfe  in  the  a6lions  of  my  mind,  that 
I  am  confcious  of  while  I  walk,  but  only  my  pre- 
ferring or  choofing,  through  fucceffive  moments,  that 
there  fhould  be  fuch  alterations  of  my  external  fen- 
fations  and  motions ;  together  with  a  concurring 
habitual  expectation  that  it  will  be  fo  ;  having  ever 
found  by  experience,  that  on  fuch  an  immediate 
preference,  fuch  fenfations  and  motions  do  a6lually, 
inflantaneoufly,  and  conftantly  arife.  But  it  is  not 
fo  in  the  cafe  of  flying  :  though  a  man  may  be  faid 
remotely  to  choofe  or  prefer  flying  ;  yet  he  does  not 
choofe  or  prefer,  incline  to  or  defire,  under  circum- 
flances  in  view,  any  immediate  exertion  of  the  mem- 
bers of  his  body  in  order  to  it  ;  becaufe  he  has  no 
expe6lation  that  he  fhould  obtain  the  defired  end 
by  any  fuch  exertion  ;  and  he  does  not  prefer  or  in- 
cline to  any  bodily  exertion  or  effort  under  this  ap- 
prehended circumftance,  of  its  being  wholly  in  vain. 
So  that  if  we  carefully  diftinguifli  the  proper  obje6ls 
of  the  feveral  a6ls  of  the  Will,  it  will  not  appear  by 
this,  and  fuch  like  inftances,  that  there  is  any  differ- 
ence between  volition  d^ndi  preference  ;  or  that  a  man's 
choofing,  liking  bed,  or  being  befl  pleafed  with  a 
thing,  are  not  the  fame  with  his  willing  that  thing ; 
as  they  fcem  to  be  according  to  thofc  general  and 


'4  The  Nature  of  the  WiM.  Part  L 

more  natural  i"notions  of  men,  according  to  which 
language  is  formed.  Thus  an  a6l  of  the  Will  is 
commonly  exprefled  by  its  pkafing  a  man  to  do  thus 
or  thus ;  and  a  man  doing  as  he  wills^  and  doing  as 
he  plcafes,  are  the  fame  thing  in  common  fpeech. 

Mr.  Locke*  fays,  "  The  Will  is  perfeaiy  diftin- 
**  guifhed  from  Defire;  which  in  the  very  fame 
••  a6lion  may  have  a  quite  contrary  tendency  from 
*'  thar  which  our  Wills  fet  us  upon.  A  man  (fays 
**  he)  whom  I  cannot  deny,  may  oblige  me  to  ufe 
**  perfuafions  to  another,  which,  at  the  fame  time  I 
*'  am  fpeaking,  I  may  wifli  may  not  prevail  on  him. 
*'  In  this  cafe  it  is  plain  the  Will  and  Defire  run 
**  counter."  I  do  not  fuppoCe,  that  Will  and  Defire 
are  words  of  precifely  the  fame  fignification  :  -Will 
feems  to  be  a  word  of  a  more  general  fignification, 
extending  to  things  prefent  and  abfent.  Defire  re- 
fpe£ls  fomething  abfent.  I  may  prefer  my  prefent 
fituation  and  pollure,  fuppofe  fitting  flill,  or  having 
my  eyes  open,  and  fo  may  will  it.  But  yet  I  cannot 
think  they  are  fo  entirely  di[lin6l,  that  they  can  ever 
be  properly  faid  to  run  counter.  A  man  never,  in 
\  any  inftance,  wills  any  thing  contrary  to  his  defires, 
or  defires  any  thing  contrary  to  his  Will.  The  fore- 
mentioned  inftance,  which  Mr.  Locke  produces,  does 
not  prove  that  he  ever  does.  He  may,  on  fome  con- 
fidcration  or  other,  will  to  utter  fpeeches  which  have 
a  tendency  to  perfuade  another,  and  ftill  may  defire 
that  f/iey  may  not  perfuade  him  :  but  yet  his  W^ill 
and  Defire  doci  not  run  counter  at  all :  the  thing 
which  he  wills,  the  very  fame  he  defires ;  and  he 
does  not  will  a  thing,  and  defire  the  contrary  in  any 
particular.  In  this  inftance,  it  is  not  carefully  ob- 
ferved,  what  is  the  thing  willed,  and  what  is  the 
thing  defired :  if  it  were,  it  would  be  found  that 

♦  Hum.  Uad.   vol.  i,  p.  203,  20^. 


SeEt.  I.  The  Nature  of  the  Will.  5 

Will  and  Defire  does  not  clafli  in  the  leaft.  The 
thing  willed  on  fome  confideration,  is  to  utter  fuch 
words ;  and  certainly,  the  fame  confideration  fo  in- 
fluences him,  that  he  does  not  defire  the  contrary : 
all  things  confidered,  he  choofes  to  utter  fuch  words, 
and  does  not  defire  not  to  utter  them.  And  fo  as 
to  the  thing  which  Mr.  Locke  fpeaks  of  as  defired, 
viz.  That  the  words,  though  they  tend  to  perfuade, 
fhould  not  be  effedual  to  that  end;  hlis  Will  is  tiot 
contrary  to  this ;  he  does  not  will  that  they  fhould 
be  efFe6lual,  but  rather  wills  that  they  fhould  not,  as 
he  defires.  In  order  to  prove  that  the  Will  and 
Defire  may  run  counter,  it  fhould  be  fhown  that 
they  may  be  contrary  one  to  the  other  in  the  fame 
thing,  or  with  refpe6l  to  the  very  fame  obje6l  of 
Will  or  Defire  :  but  here  the  objefts  are  two ;  and 
in  each,  taken  by  thenifelves,  the  Will  and  Defire 
agree.  And  it  is  no  wonder  that  they  fhould  not 
agree  in  different  things,  however  little  diflinguifhed 
they  are  in  their  nature.  The  Will  may  not  agree 
with  the  Will,  nor  Defire  agree  with  Defire,  in  dif- 
ferent things.  As  in  this  very  inflance  which  Mr. 
Locke  mentions,  a  perfon  may,  on  fome  confidera- 
tion, defire  to  ufe  perfuafions,  and  at  the  fame  time 
may  defire  they  may  not  prevail ;  but  yet  nobody 
will  fay,  that  Defire  runs  counter  to  Defire  ;  or  that 
this  proves  that  Defire  is  perfeQly  a  diftin6l;  thing 
from  Defire, — The  lilce  might  be  obferved  of  the  other 
inflance  Mr.  Locke  produces,  of  a  man's  defiring  to 
be  eafed  of  pain,  &c. 

But  not  to  dwell  any  longer  on  this,  whether  De- 
fire and  Will,  and  whether  Preference  and  Volition  be 
precifely  the  fame  things  or  no ;  yet,  I  trufl  it  will 
be  allowed  by  all,  that  in  every  aft  of  Will  there  is 
an  adl  of  choice  ;  that  in  every  volition  there  is  a 
preference,  or  a  prevailing  inclination  of  the  foul, 
whereby  the  foul,  at  that  inflant,  is  out  of  a  ftate  of 


6  OJtiu  Determination  •Jtkc  WiU,      Part  I. 

perfe^  indiflFerecce,  iritb  refpe^  to  the  dircS  objeft 
of  tbe  volition.  So  that  in  every  ad,  or  going  forth 
of  the  Will,  ibcrc  is  fome  pi  epon deration  of  the 
mind  or  inclination,  one  wi^y  ra:her  than  another ; 
93oA  the  foul  had  rather  A#w  or  d^  one  thing  than 
aftoiher,  or  than  not  to  hare  or  do  that  thing  ;  and 
that  there,  where  there  is  abfolutelv  no  preferring  or 
dioofing,  but  a  peifed  continuing  equilibrium,  there 
IS  no  Toliiion. 


S   X   C    T    I   o   N      IT, 
Cmxtnamg  iif  Detcrminadon  pfiii  WUS. 

St  iHtwmimu^  iJu  Wi3,  if  the  phrafe  be  ufcd  with 
aaj  mnmmg^  waft  be  intended,  c^n^  thsi  the  sBof 
tktmU^ChmuJhmUhtUm&,mi9M9Umwij€:  and 
tbe  Will  is  fud  to  be  deCermiMd,  when,  in  confe- 
qaence  of  fomc  adion,  or  iiiiacDce,  its  choice  is  di- 
redcd  to,  amd  fixed  upon  a  particular  objed.  As 
when  we  fpeak  of  tbe  DetcrmiaatioQ  of  motion,  we 
mean  CMifing  the  BDocioa  of  the  bo^  to  b?  fuch  a 
war,  or  in  fuch  a  diredion,  rather  than  another. 

To  talk  of  the  Detenmnatioa  of  tbe  Will,  fap- 
pofes  an  effed,  which  moft  bavc  a  caufe.  If  the 
Will  be  dctcnained,  there  is  a  Determiner.  This 
muft  be  foppoied  to  be  intended  even  by  them  that 
far,  tbe  Will  determii>c$  itfelf.  If  it  be  fo,  the 
^^"  1  is  both  Determiner  and  determined  ;  it  is  a 
ciuie  that  afts  and  produces  effeds  upon  itfelf,  and 
'\s  tbe  objed  of  iu  own  influence  and  adion. 

With  refpcd  to  that  grand  enquiry,  Wkst  ieUr^ 
rnaes <ie  ITdZ,  it  vo«ild  be  very  tedious  and  aonecef- 
faij  at  prefcnt  to  enaroera;e  and  examine  all  tbe 
▼arioitt  opiniont^  wbkii  have  been  advanced  con« 


Sea.  IL         Wkal  determiMS  At  Witt. 


cerning  this  matter  ;  nor  ii  it  necdfal  tbat  I  fhookl 
enter  into  a  particular  difqaifition  of  all  points  de- 
bated in  difptttes  ott  that  queftioo,  Wkokcr  tkc  WM 
e!zi;cyi/:i::'M>  tht  Utfi  diBcic  cf  thiniUerJtamding.  It  is 
fafficient  to  my  prefent  parpofc  to  fay — It  is  thai 
mctiv^y  rj^hick,  ai  itJlaTUji  m  the  viemoftkemiad,  istU 
Jiron^ffi  that  dcttrmimi  the  WUL  Bat  it  may  be  nc- 
ctS^ry  that  I  fbooid  a  little  explain  my  meaning 
in  this. 

By  motive,  I  mean  the  whole  of  that  which  mores, 
excites  or  invites  the  mind  to  voliiion,  whether  that 
be  one  thing  dngly,  or  many  things  conjanaiy. 
Many  particular  things  may  concur  and  nnite  their 
ftrength  to  induce  the  mind  ;  and  when  it  is  fo,  all 
together  arc  as  it  were  one  coraplex  motive.  And 
when  I  fpeak  of  the /rntgfjt  mdirx,  I  have  refped  to 
the  ftrength  of  the  wboie  that  operates  to  induce  to 
a  particular  a^  of  volidoo,  whether  that  be  the 
ftrength  of  one  thing  alone,  or  g€  aamj  togecfaer. 

Whatever  is  a  motive,  in  this  fenfc,  moft  be  fome- 
thing  that  is  tjOdra  in  the  9km  or  sp^rfhtmfiou  sftis 
wtierfiamdiltg,  or  perceiTiog  fac^^.  Nocting  can 
induce  or  invite  the  mind  to  will  or  aS  any  thiag, 
any  farther  than  k  is  perceived,  or  u  fome  way  or 
ether  in  the  mind's  view  ;  for  what  is  wholij  na- 
perceived,  and  perfe^ly  out  of  the  mind'?  view,  ^n- 
not  affeS  the  ir  ind  at  all.  It  is  mo  ^evident,  that 
nothing  is  in  the  mind,  or  reaches  it,  or  cakes  any 
hold  of  it,  any  ocherwtfe  than  as  it  is  percciTed  or 
thought  of. 

And  I  think  it  mnft  alfo  be  allowed  l^  all,  that 
every  thing  that  is  properly  called  a  motive,  cxcire- 
mect  or  inducement  to  a  perceiving  willing  agenc, 
has  fome  fort  and  decree  of  tcmdoKy^  or  sdmnU^e  to 
move  or  excite  the  Will,  previous  to  the  effe&.  or 
to  the  ad  cf  the  Will  excited.  This  previous  tcn- 
«ency  of  the  motive  is  wh2: 1  call  ih: ^^r^ph  sf  t^-^ 


8  What  determines  the  Will,  Part  I. 

motive.  That  motive  which  has  a  lefs  degree  of  pre- 
vious advantage  or  tendency  to  move  the  Will,  or 
that  appears  lefs  inviting,  as  it  ftands  in  the  view  of 
the  mind,  is  what  I  call  a  weaker  motive.  On  the 
contrary,  that  which  appears  mod  inviting,  and  has, 
by  what  appears  concerning  it  to  the  underftanding 
or  apprehenfion,  the  greateft  degree  of  previous  ten- 
dency to  excite  and  induce  the  choice,  is  what  I  call 
the  Jlrongejl  motive.  And  in  this  fenfe,  I  fuppofe 
the  Will  is  always  determined  by  the  ftrongeft 
motive. 

Things  that  exift  in  the  view  of  the  mind  have 
their  ftrength,  tendency  or  advantage  to  move  or 
excite  its  Will,  from  many  things  appertaining  to 
the  nature  and  circumftances  of  the  thing  viewed,  the 
nature  and  circumftances  of  the  mmd  that  views,  and 
the  degree  and  manner  of  its  view  ;  which  it  would 
perhaps  be  hard  to  make  a  perfeft  enumeration  of. 
But  fo  much  I  think  may  be  determined  in  general, 
without  room  for  controverfy,  that  whatever  is  per- 
ceived or  apprehended  by  an  intelligent  and  volun- 
tary agent,  which  has  the  nature  and  influence  of  a 
motive  to  volition  or  choice,  is  confidered  or  viewed 
as  good  ;  nor  has  it  any  tendency  to  invite  or  engage 
the  eleftion  of  the  foul  in  any  further  degree  than  it 
appears  fuch.  For  to  fay  otherwife,  would  be  to 
fay,  that  things  that  appear  have  a  tendency  by  the 
appearance  they  make,  to  engage  the  mind  to  ele6t 
them,  tome  other  way  than  by  their  appearing  eligi- 
ble to  it;  which  is  abfurd.  And  therefore  it  muft 
be  true,  in  fome  fenfe,  that  the  Will  always  is  as  the 
greatfjl  apparent  ^ocd  is.  But  only,  for  the  right 
undcrllanding  of  this,  two  things  muft  be  well  and 
diftin6lly  obferved. 

1.  It  muft  be  obferved  in  what  fenfe  I  ufe  the 
term  good  ;  namely  as  of  the  fame  import  with  agree^ 
able.     To  appear  good  to  the  mind,  as  I  ufe  the 


Se£l.  II.  What  determines  the  Will  9 

phrafe,  is  the  fame  as  to  appear  agreeable,  or  feem 
fleafmg  to  the  mind.  Certainly  nothing  appears 
inviting  and  eligible  to  the  mind,  or  tending  to  en- 
gage its  inclination  and  choice,  confidered  as  evil  or 
difagreeahle  ;  nor,  indeed^  as  indijfertnt,  and  neither 
agreeable  nor  difr^greeable.  But  if  it  tends  to  draw 
the  inclination,  and  move  the  Will,  it  mud  be  un- 
der the  notion  of  that  which  fuits  the  mind.  And 
therefore  that  mud  have  the  greateft  tendency  to  at- 
traft  and  engage  it,  which,  as  it  ftands  in  the  mind's 
view,  fuiis  it  bed,  and  pleafes  it  molt ;  and  in  that 
fenfe,  is  the  greated  apparent  good  :  to  fay  other- 
wife,  is  little,  if  any  thing,  diort  of  a  dire6l  and  plain 
contradidion. 

The  word  good,  in  this  fenfe,  includes  in  its  fig- 
nification,  the  removal  or  avoiding  of  evil,  or  of 
that  which  is  difagreeable  and  uneafy.  It  is  agree- 
able and  pleafjng  to  avoid  what  is  difagreeable  and 
xiifpleafing  and  to  have  uneaGnefs  removed.  So 
that  here  is  included  what  Mr.  Locke  fuppofes  de- 
termines the  Will.  For  when  he  (peaks  of  unea- 
fmeG;  as  determining  the  Will,  he  mud  be  under- 
ftood  as  fuppofing  that  the  end  or  aim  which  gov- 
erns in  the  volition  or  a6lof  preference,  is  the  avoid- 
ing or  removal  of  that  unealinefs  ;  and  that  is  the 
fame  thing  aschoofmg  and  feeking  what  is  more  ea- 
iy  and  agreeable. 

2.  When  I  fay,  the  Will  is  as  the  greated  appar- 
ent good  is,  or  (as  I  have  explained  it)  that  volition 
lias  always  for  its  objed  the  thing  which  appears 
.mod  agreeable  ;  it  mud  be  carefully  obferved,  to 
avoid  confulion  and  needlefs  objedion,  that  I  fpeak 
fii  the  diretl  and  irdmediate  objedl  ot  the  a£l  of  voli- 
tion ;  and  not  fome  obje6l  that  the  a6l  of  Will  has 
not  an  immediate,  but  only  an  indiredl  and  remote 
lefpe^l  to.  Many  a6ts  of  volition  have  fome  remote 
relation  to  an  obje61,  that  is  ditrerent  from  the  thing 

D 


lo  What  determines  the  Will,  Part  L 

mon:  immediately  willed  and  chofen.  Thus,  when 
a  drunkard  has  his  liquor  before  him,  and  he  has  to 
choofc  whether  to  drink  it  or  no  ;  the  proper  and 
immediate  obje6ls,  about  which  his  present  volition 
is  converfant,  and  between  which  his  choice  now  de- 
cides, are  his  own  a6ls>  in  drinking  the  liquor,  or  let- 
ting it  alone  ;  and  this  will  certainly  be  done  ac- 
cording to  what,  in  the  prcfent  view  of  his  mind, 
taken  in  the  whole  of  it,  is  moft  agreeable  to  him. 
If  he  choofes  or  wills  to  drink  it,  and  notto  letita- 
lone  ;  then  this  aftion,  as  it  (lands  in  the  view  of  his 
mind,  with  all  that  belongs  to  its  appearance  there, 
is  more  agreeable  and  pleafing  than  letting  it  alone. 
But  the  objefts  to  which  this  a6l  of  volition  may 
relate  more  rem.otely,  and  between  which  his  choice 
may  determine  more  indire£lly,  arc  the  prefent  plea- 
fure  the  man  expefts  by  drinking,  and  the  future 
mifery  which  he  judges  will  be  the  confequence  of 
it  :  he  may  judge  that  this  future  mifery,  when  it 
comes,  will  be  more  difagreeable  and  unpleafant, 
than  refraining  from  drinking  now  would  be.  But 
.thefe  two  things  are  not  the  proper  objefts  that  the 
a6l  of  volition  Ipoken  of  is  nextly  converfant  about. 
For  the  a6l  of  Will  fpoken  of  is  concerning  prefent 
drinking  or  forbearing  to  drink.  'If  he  wills  to  drink, 
then  drinking  is  the  proper  objeft  of  the  a6l  of  his 
Will  ;  and  drinking,  on  fome  account  or  other,  now 
appears  mofl  agreeable  to  him,  and  fuits  him  beft. 
If  he  choofes  to  refrain,  then  refraining  is  the  imme- 
diate objcdt  of  his  Will,  and  is  mofl  pleafmg  to  him. 
If  in  the  choice  he  makes  in  the  cafe,  he  prefers  a 
prefent  plcafure  to  a  future  advantage,  which  he 
judges  will  be  greater  when  it  comes  ;  then  a  leffer 
prclent  pleafurc  appears  more  agreeable  to  him  than 
a  greater  advantage  at  a  diftance.  If  on  the  contra- 
ry a  future  advantage  is  preferred,  then  that  appears 
inoll  agreeable,  and  fuits  him  be^.     And  fo  ftill 


Sea.  11.  What  determines  the  Will.  tt 

the  prefent  volition  is  as  the  greateft  apparent  good 
at  prefent  is. 

I  have  rather  chofen  to  exprefs  myfelf  thus,  that 
the  Will  always  is  as  the  grcatejl  apparent  good,  or  as 
what  appears  mojl  agreeable,  is,  than  to  fay  that  the 
Will  is  determined  by  the  greateft  apparent  good,  or 
by  what  feems  moft  agreeable  ;  becaufe  an  appear- 
ing moft  agreeable  or  pleafing  to  the  mind,  and  the 
mind's  preferring  and  choofing,  feem  hardly  to  be 
properly  and  perfediy  diftind.  If  ftri6l  propriety 
of  fpeech  be  infifted  on,  it  may  more  properly  be 
faid,  that  the  voluntary  aBion  which  is  the  immediate 
confequence  and  fruit  of  the  mind's  volition  or 
choice,  is  determined  by  that  which  appears  moft  a- 
greeable,  than  the  preference  or  choice  itfelf ;  but 
that  the  a6i  of  volition  itfelf  is  alwaj^s  determined 
by  that  in  or  about  the  mind's  view  of  the  objeft, 
which  caufes  it  to  appear  moft  agreeable.  I  fay,  in  or 
about  the  mind's  view  of  the  obje6t,  becaufe  what  has 
influence  to  render  an  obje6l  in  view  agreeable,  is 
not  only  what  appears  in  the  obje6l  viewed,  but  al- 
fo  the  manner  of  the  view,  and  the  flate  and  circumjianc" 
es  of  the  mind  that  views. — Particularly  to  enume- 
rate all  things  pertaining  to  the  mind's  view  of  the 
obje6ls  of  volition,  which  have  influence  in  their  ap- 
pearing agreeable  to  the  mind,  would  be  a  matter  of 
no  fmall  difficulty,  and  might  require  a  treatife  by 
itfelf,  and  is  not  neceffary  to  my  prefent  purpofe.  I 
(hall  therefore  only  mention  fome  things  in  general. 

I.  One  thing  that  makes  an  objedl:  propofed  to 
choice  agreeable,  is  the  apparent  nature  and  circiim' 
Jlances  of  the  objeB,  And  there  are  various  things  of 
this  fort,  that  have  an  hand  in  rendering  the  obje6l 
more  or  lefs  agreeable  ;  as, 

1,  That  which  appears  in  the  objedl,  which  ren- 
ders it  b eaiUiful  3ind  pleafant,  or  deformed  and  irkfome 
to  the  mind  ;  viewing  it  as  it  is  in  itfelf. 


12 


What  determines  the  Will  Part  I. 


2.  The  apparent  degree  of  pleafare  or  trouble 
attending  the  obje6t,  or  the  confequence  of  it.  Such 
concomitants  and  confequents  being  viewed  as  cir- 
cumftanccs  of  objefts,  are  to  be  confidered  as  be- 
longing to  it,  and  as  it  were  parts  of  it ;  as  it  ftands 
in  the  mind's  view,  as  a  propofcd  obje6l  of  choice. 

3.  The  apparent  Jlate  of  the  pleafure  or  trouble 
that  appears,  with  refped  to  dijlancc  of  time  ;  being 
either  nearer  or  farther  off.  It  is  a  thing  in  itfelf 
agreeable  to  the  mind,  to  have  pleafure  fpeedily ; 
and  difagreeable  to  have  it  delayed  ;  fo  that  if  there 

be  two  equal  degrees  of  pleafure  fet  in  the  mind's 
view,  and  all  other  things  are  equal,  but  only  one 
is  beheld  as  near,  and  the  other  far  off;  the  nearer 
will  appear  mod  agreeable,  and  fo  will  be  chofen. 
Becaufe  tho'  the  agreeablenefs  of  the  obje6ls  be  ex- 
adily  equal,  as  viewed  in  themfelves,  yet  not  as 
viewed  in  their  circumftances  ;  one  of  them  having 
the  additional  agreeablenefs  of  the  circumllance  o£ 


nearnefs. 


II.  Another  thing  that  contributes  to  the  agreea- 
blenefs of  an  obje6"l  of  choice,  as  it  (lands  in  the 
mind's  view,  is  the  manner  of  the  view.  If  the  ob- 
jed  be  fomething  which  appears  conne6led  with  fu- 
ture pleafure,  not  only  will  the  degree  of  apparent 
pleafure  have  influence,  but  alfo  the  manner  of  the 
view,  efpecially  in  two  refpeQs. 

1.  With  relped  to  the  degree  o^  judgvient,  or  ^^tm* 
nefs  of  ajfcnt,  with  which  the  mind  judges  the  pleaf- 
ure  to  be  future.  Becaufe  it  is  more  agreeable  to 
have  a  certain  happinefs,  than  an  uncertain  one  ;  and 
a  pleafure  viewed  as  more  probable,  all  other  things 
being  equal,  is  more  agreeable  to  the  mind,  than 
that  which  is  viewed  as  lefs  probable. 

2.  With  refpeft  to  the  degree  of  the  idea  of  the 
future  pleafure.  With  regard  to  things  which  are 
the  fubjc6l  of  our  thoughts,  either  patt,  prefent  Qf 


Sea.  II.  What  determines  the  Will.  13 

future,  we  have  much  more  of  an  idea  or  apprehen- 
fion  of  feme  things  than  others;  that  is,  our  idea  is 
much  more  clear,  lively  and  Ilrong.  Thus  the  ideas 
we  have  or  fenfible  things  by  immediate  fenfation, 
are  ufually  much  more  lively  than  thofe  we  have 
by  mere  imagination,  or  by  contemplation  of  them 
when  abfent.  My  idea  of  the  fun,  when  I  look  up- 
on it,  is  more  vivid  than  when  I  only  think  of  it. — 
Our  idea  of  the  fweet  reliOi  of  a  delicious  fruit  is 
ufually  flronger  when  we  tafle  it,  than  when  we  on- 
ly imagine  it.  And  fometimes  the  idea  we  have  of 
things  by  contemplation,  are  much  flronger  and 
clearer,  than  at  other  times.  Thus,  a  man  at  one 
time  has  a  much  flronger  idea  of  the  pleafure  which 
is  to  be  enjoyed  in  eating  fome  fort  of  food  that  he 
loves,  than  at  another.  Now  the  degree,  orflrength 
of  the  idea  or  fenfe  that  men  have  of  future  good  or 
evil,  is  one  thing  that  has  great  influence  on  their 
minds  to  excite  choice  or  volition.  When  of  two 
kinds  of  future  pleafure,  which  the  mind  confiders 
of,  and  are  prefented  for  choice,  both  are  fuppofed 
exa6lly  equal  by  the  judgment,  and  both  equally 
certain,  and  all  other  things  are  equal,  but  only  one 
of  them  is  what  the  mind  has  a  far  more  lively  fenfe 
of,  than  of  the  other;  this  has  the  greatefl  advantage 
by  far  to  afFeft  and  attract  the  mind,  and  move  the 
Will.  It  is  now  more  agreeable  to  the  mind,  to  take 
the  pleafure  it  has  a  (Irong  and  lively  fenfe  of,  than 
that  which  it  has  only  a  faint  idea  of.  The  view  of 
the  former  is  attended  with  the  flrongell  appetite, 
and  the  greatefl  uneaiiners  attends  the  want  of  it ;  and 
it  is  agreeable  to  the  mind  to  have  uneafinefs  remov- 
ed, and  its  appetite  gratified.  And  if  feveral  future 
enjoyments  are  prefented  together,  as  competitors 
for  the  choice  of  the  mind,  fome  of  them  judged  to 
be  greater,  and  others  Itis ;  the  mind  alfo  having  a 
greater  fer?fe  and  more   lively    idea  of  the  good  of 


14  What  determines  the  Will  Part  I. 

fomc  of  ihem,  and  of  others  a  lefs ;  and  fome  are 
viewed  as  of  greater  certainty  or  probability  than 
others ;  and  thofe  enjoyments  that  appear  mod  a- 
greeable  in  one  of  thefe  refpeds,  appear  lead  fo  in 
others  :  in  this  cafe,  all  other  things  being  equal, 
the  agreeablenefs  of  a  propofed  objctlof  choice  will 
be  in  a  degree  fome  way  compounded  of  the  degree 
of  good  fuppofed  by  the  judgment,  the  degree  of 
apparent  probability  or  certainty  of  that  good,  and 
the  degree  of  the  view  or  fenfe,  or  livelinefs  of  the 
idea  the  mind  has  of  that  good  ;  becaufe  all  togeth- 
er concur  to  conftitute  the  degree  in  which  the  ob- 
je6t  appears  at  prefent  agreeable;  and  accordingly 
volition  will  be  determined. 

I  might  further  obfcrve,  the  flateof  the  mind  that 
views  a  propofed  obje6l  of  choice,  is  another  thing 
that  contributes  to  the  agreeablenefs  or  difagreea- 
blencfs  of  that  obje6l ;  the  particular  temper  which 
the  mind  has  by  nature,  or  that  has  been  introduced 
and  eflablifhed  by  education,  example,  cuftom,  or 
fome  other  means;  or  the  frame  or  ftate  that  the 
mind  is  in  on  a  particular  occafion.  That  obje6l 
which  appears  agreeable  to  one,  does  not  fo  to  an- 
other. And  the  fame  obje£l  does  not  always  appear 
alike  agreeable,  to  the  fame  perfon,  at  different  times. 
It  is  raofl  agreeable  to  fome  men,  to  follow  their 
realon;  and  to  others,  to  follow  their  appetites  :  to 
fome  men  it  is  more  agreeable  to  deny  a  vicious  in- 
clination, than  to  gratify  it :  others  it  fuits  befl  to 
gratify  the  vilefl  appetites.  It  is  more  difagreeable 
to  fome  men  than  others,  to  counier-afl  a  former 
refolution.  In  thefe  refpeds,  and  many  others  which 
might  be  mentioned,  different  things  will  be  mod 
agreeable  to  different  perfons;  and  not  only  fo,  but 
to  the  fame  perfons  at  different  times. 

But  polfibly  it  is  necdlefs  and  improper,  to  men- 
tion the  frrtmc  and   Hate  of  the  mind,  as  a  diftinft 


Sea.  II.         What  determines  ths  Will.  15 

grourxd  of  theagreeablenefs  of  obje6ls  from  the  other 
two  mentioned  before,  viz.  The  apparent  nature 
and  circumftances  of  the  obje6ls  viewed,  and  the 
manner  of  the  view  :  perhaps  if  we  Rri6lly  confider 
the  matter,  the  different  temper  and  ftate  of  the 
mind  makes  no  alteration  as  to  the  agreeablenefs  of 
objeds,  any  other  way  than  as  it  makes  the  objeQs 
themfelves  appear  differently  beautiful  or  deformed, 
having  apparent  pleafure  or  pain  attending  them  : 
and  as  it  occafions  the  manner  of  the  view  to  be  dif- 
ferent, caufes  the  idea'of  beauty  or  deformity,  pleaf- 
ure or  uneafinefs  to  be  more  or  lefs  lively. 
'  However,  I  think  fo  much  is  certain,  that  voli- 
tion, in  no  one  inilance  that  can  be  mentioned,  is 
otherwife  than  the  greateil  apparent  good  is,  in  the 
manner  which  has  been  explained.  The  choice  of 
ihe  mind  never  departs  from  that  which,  at  that 
lime,  and  with  refpedl  to  the  direct  and  immediate 
objeQs  of  that  decifion  of  the  mind,  appears  mofl 
agreeable  and  pleafing,  all  things  confidered.  If 
the  immediate  obje6ls  of  the  Will  are  a  man's  own 
a6lions,  then  thofe  adions  which  appear  mofl  agree- 
able to  him  he  wills.  If  it  be  now  mofl  agreeable 
to  him,  all  things  confidered,  to  walk,  then  he  now 
wills  to  walk.  If  it  be  now,  upon  ihe  whole  of  what 
at  prefent  appears  to  him,  mofl  agreeable  to  fpeak, 
then  he  choofes  to  fpeak  :  if  It  fuits  him  befl  to  keep 
filence,  then  he  choofes  to  keep  filence.  There  is 
fcarcely  a  plainer  and  more  univerfal  dictate  of  the 
fenfe  and  experience  of  mankind,  than  that,  when 
men  a6l  voluntarily,  and  do  what  they  pleafe,  then 
they  do  what  fuits  them  befl,  or  what  is  mofl  agree- 
able  to  them.  To  fay,  that  they  do  what  they  pleafe, 
or  what  pleafes  them,  but  yet  do  not  do  what  is  a* 
grecahk  to  them,  is  the  fame  thing  as  to  fay,  they  do 
what  they  pleafe,  but  do  not  a6l  their  pleafure  ;  and 
that  is  to  fay,  tiiat  they  do  what  they  pleafe,  and  yet 
do  not  do  what  thc^v  nlcafe. 


1 6  What  determines  the  WilL  Part  I. 

It  appears  from  thefe  things,  that  in  fome  fenfe, 
tht  Will  always  follows  the  lajl  didate  of  the  underjland- 
tng.  But  then  the  underjl anding  mud  be  taken  in  a 
large  fenfe,  as  including  the  v\^hole  faculty  of  per- 
ception or  appi  chenfion,  and  not  merely  what  is  call- 
ed reafon  or  judgfncnt.  If  by  the  di6»:ate  of  the  un- 
derllandmg  is  meant  what  reafon  declares  to  be  beft 
or  moil  for  the  perfon's  happinefs,  taking  in  the 
whole  of  its  duration^  it  is  not  true,  that  the  Will 
always  follows  the  iafl  di6i:ate  of  the  underftanding. 
Such  a  didate  of  reafon  is  quite  a  different  matter 
from  things  appearing  now  mofl  agreeable  ;  all  things 
being  put  together  which  pertain  to  the  mind's  pref- 
ent  perceptions,  apprehenfions  or  ideas,  in  any  re- 
fpe6l.  Altho'  that  didlate  of  reafon,  when  it  takes 
place,  is  otje  thing  that  is  put  into  the  fcales,  and  is 
to  be  confidered  as  a  thing  that  has  concern  in  the 
oompound  influence  which  moves  and  induces  the 
Will  ;  and  is  one  thing  that  is  to  be  confidered  in 
eflimating  the  degree  of  that  appearance  of  good 
which  the  will  always  follows  ;  either  as  having  its 
influence  added  to  other  things,  or  fubducied  from 
ihem.  When  it  concurs  with  other  things,  then  its 
weight  is  added  to  them,  as  put  into  the  fame  fcale  ; 
but  when  it  is  againll  them,  it  is  as  a  weight  in  the 
oppohte  fcale,  where  it  refills  the  influence  of  other 
things  :  yet  its  refiftance  is  ofien  overcome  by  their 
greater  weigh:,  and  fo  the  a6l  of  tha  Will  is  deter- 
iiiined  in  oppofition  to  it. 

The  things  which  I  have  faid,  may,  I  hope,  ferve, 
in  fo»ne  meafure,  to  illuftrate  and  confirm  the  pofi- 
tion  I  laid  down  in  the  beginning  of  this  fedlion, 
viz.  That  the  Will  is  always  determined  by  thcjirongejl 
7notive,  or  by  that  view  ot  the  mind  which  has  the 
created  degree  of  previous  tendency  to  excite  voli- 
tion. But  whether  1  have  been  fo  happy  as  rightly 
to  explain  the  thin^  wherein  confi!ls  thc'fhength  of 


Sea.  III.  The  Natuft  of  Neceffity.  17 

motives,  or  not,  yet  my  failing  in  this  will  not  over- 
throw the  pofition  itfelf ;  which  carries  much  of  its 
own  evidence  with  it,  and  is  the  thing  of  chief  im- 
portance to  the  purpofe  of  the  enfuing  difcourfe  : 
And  the  truth  of  it,  I  hope,  will  appear  with  great 
clearnefs,  before  I  have  finifhed  what  I  have  to  fay 
on  the  fubjedi;  of  human  liberty. 


Section     III. 

Concerning  the  Meaning  of  the  Terms  Neceffity,   Im* 
poffibility,  Inability,  &c.  and  0/  Contingency 

1  HE  words  necejfary^  impojfihle.  Sec,  are  abundantly 
ufed  in  controverfies  about  Free- Will  and  moral 
agency  ;  and  therefore  the  fenfe  in  which  they  are 
ufed,  Ihould  be  clearly  underftood. 

Here  I  might  fay,  that  a  thing  is  then  faid  to  be 
necejfary,  when  it  muft  be,  and  cannot  be  otherwifc. 
But  this  would  not  properly  be  a  definition  of  Ne- 
ceffity, or  an  explanation  of  the  word,  any  more 
than  if  I  explained  the  word  miiflt  by  there  being  a 
Neceffity.  The  words  muji^  can,  and  cannot,  need 
explication  as  much  as  the  words  necejfary  and  m- 
fojfible ;  excepting  that  the  former  are  words  that 
children  commonly  ufe,  and  know  (omething  of  the 
meaning  of  earlier  than  the  latter. 

The  word  necejfary,  as  ufed  in  common  fpeecb,  is  a 
relative  term  ;  and  relates  to  fome  fuppofed  oppo- 
lition  made  to  the  exiftence  of  the  thing  fpoken  of, 
which  is  overcome,  or  proves  in  vain  to  hinder  or 
alter  it.  That  is  neceffary,  in  the  original  and  prop- 
er fenfe  of  the  word,  which  is,  or  will  be,  notwith- 
ftanding  all  fuppofable  oppofition.     To  fay,  that  a 

E 


i8  The  Nature  o/'Neceflity.  Part  I. 

thing  is  ncccflary,  h  the  fame  thing  as  to  fay,  that 
it  is  impofliblc,  it  (hould  not  be  :  But  the  word  im^ 
pojihk  is  maj-iifeftly  a  relative  term,  and  has  refer- 
ence to  fuppoled  power  exerted  to  bring  a  thing  to 
pafs,  which  is  infufTicient  for  the  efff;6: ;  as  the  word 
unable  is  rcldtive,  and  has  relation  to  ability  or  en- 
deavour which  is  infufficient ;  and  as  the  word  irre^ 
fiftible  is  relative,  and  has  always  reference  to  refift- 
ance  which  is  made,  or  may  be  made  to  fome  force 
or  power  tending  to  an  eff-cl,  and  is  infufficient  to 
wiihftand  the  power,  or  hinder  the  efFe6i;.  The 
common  notion  of  Neceffity  and  Impoffibility  im- 
plies fomething  that  fruftrates  endeavour  or  delire. 
Here  leveral  things  are  to  be  noted. 

1.  Things  are  faid  to  be  neceffary  in  general, 
which  are  or  will  be  notwithflanding  any  (uppofa- 
ble  oppofuion  from  us  or  others^  or  from  whatever 
quarter.  But  things  are  faid  to  be  neceffary  to  us, 
which  are  or  will  be  notwithflanding  all  oppofition 
fuppofable  in  the  cafe  from  us.  The  fame  may  be 
obferved  of  the  word  impojfihle,  and  other  fuch  like 
terms. 

2.  Thcfe  terms  neccfary,  impoffibk,  irreffiible,  ^ 
do  efpecially  belong  to  controverfy  about  liberty  and 
moral  agency,  as  ufed  in  the  latter  of  the  two  {tn^es 
now  mentioned,  viz,  as  neceffary  or  impoffible  to  us, 
and  with  relation  to  any  fuppofable  oppofition  or 
endeavour  of  ours, 

3.  As  the  word  Nccejfily,  in  its  vulgar  and  com- 
mon ule,  is  relative,  and  has  always  reference  to 
fome  fuppofable  infufficient  oppofition  ;  fo  when 
Ave  Ipeak  of  any  thing  as  neceffary  to  us,  it  is  with 
relation  to  fome  fuppofable  oppofition  of  cur  Wills, 
or  fome  voluntary  exertion  or  effort  of  ours  to  the 
contrary  :  For  we  do  not  properly  make  oppolition 
to  an  event,  any  otherwife  than  as  we  voluntarily 
oppofc  it.     Things  arc  faid  to  be  what  muft  be,  or 


Sea.  III.         The  Nature  of  K^cciTity.  19 

necejfarily  are,  a$  to  us,  when  they  are,  or  will  be, 
though  we  defire  or  endeavour  the  contrary,  or  try 
to  prevent  or  remove  their  exigence  :  but  fuch  op- 
pofition  of  ours  always  either  conlifts  in,  or  implies 
oppolition  of  our  Wills. 

It  is  manifefl  that  all  fuch  like  words  and  phrafes, 
as  vulgarly  ufed,  are  ufed  and  accepted  in  this  man- 
ner. A  thing  is  faid  to  be  neccjfary,  when  we  can- 
not help  it,  let  us  do  what  we  will.  So  any  thing 
is  faid  to  be  impojfible  to  us,  when  we  would  do  it, 
or  would  have  it  brought  to  pafs,  and  endeavour 
it ;  or  at  leafl  may  be  fuppofed  to  defire  and  feek 
it  ;  but  all  our  defires  and  endeavours  are,  or  would 
be  vain.  And  that  is  faid  to  be  irrefijlible,  which 
overcomes  all  our  oppolition,  refiftance,  and  endea- 
vour to  the  contrary.  And  we  are  to  be  faid  unable 
to  do  a  thing,  when  our  fuppofable  defires  and  en- 
deavours to  do  it  are  infufficient. 

We  are  accuftomed,  in  the  common  ufe  of  lan- 
guage, to  apply  and  underftand  thefe  phrafes  in  this 
fenfe  :  we  grow  up  with  fuch  a  habit ;  which  by  the 
daily  ufe  of  thefe  terms,  in  fuch  a  fenfe,  from  our 
childhood,  becomes  fixed  and  fettled  ;  fo  that  the 
idea  of  a  relation  to  a  fuppofed  will,  defire  and  en- 
deavour of  ours,  is  flrongly  conne£led  with  thefe 
terms,  and  naturally  excited  in  our  minds,  whenev- 
er we  hear  the  words  ufed.  Such  ideas,  and  thefe 
words,  are  fo  united  and  aCTociated,  that  they  una- 
voidable go  together  ;  one  fuggefls  the  other,  and 
carries  the  other  with  it,  and  never  can  be  feparated 
as  long  as  we  live.  And  if  we  u\^e  the  words,  as 
terms  of  art,  in  another  fenfe,  yet,  unlefs  we  are  ex- 
ceeding circumfpe6l  and  wary,  we  fhall  infenfibly 
flide  into  the  vulgar  ufe  of  them,  and  fo  apply  the 
words  in  a  very  inconfiftent  manner  :  this  habitual 
connexion  of  ideas  will  deceive  and  confound  us 
in  our  reafonings  and  difcourfes,  wherein  we  pre- 


20  The  Nature  of  Neceflity.  Part  I. 

tend  to  ufe  thefe  terms  in  that  manner,  as  terms 
of  art. 

4.  It  follows  from  what  has  been  obferved,  that 
when  thefe  terms  nccejfary,  impojjible,  irrejijlible,  una' 
ble,  &c.  are  ufed  in  cafes  wherein  no  oppofition,  or 
infufficient  will  or  endeavour,  is  fuppofed,  or  can  be 
fuppofed,  but  the  very  nature  of  the  fuppofed  cafe 
itfelf  excludes  and  denies  any  fuch  oppofition,  will 
or  endeavour,  thefe  terms  are  then  not  ufed  in  their 
proper  fignification,  but  quite  befide  their  ufe  in 
common  fpeech.  The  reafon  is  manifeft  ;  namely, 
that  in  fuch  cafes  we  cannot  ufe  the  words  with  re- 
ference to  a  fuppofable  oppofition,  will  or  endea- 
vour. And  therefore  if  any  man  ufes  thefe  terms 
in  fuch  cafes,  he  either  ufes  them  nonfenfically,  or 
in  fome  new  fenfe,  diverfe  from  their  original  and 
proper  meaning.  As  for  inftance  ;  if  a  man  (hould 
aflBrm  after  this  manner,  That  it  is  neceffary  for  a 
man,  and  what  muft  be,  that  a  man  fhould  choofe 
virtue  rather  than  vice,  during  the  time  that  he  pre- 
fers virtue  to  vice  ;  and  that  it  is  a  thing  impoflible 
and  irrefiftible,  that  it  fhould  be  otherwife  than  that 
he  fhould  have  this  choice,  fo  long  as  this  choice 
continues  ;  fuch  a  man  would  ufe  the  terms  mii/i, 
irrejijlible,  Sec,  with  perfe6l  infignificance  and  non- 
fenfe  ;  or  in  fome  new  fenfe,  diverfe  from  their  com- 
mon ufe  ;  which  is  with  reference,  as  has  been  ob- 
ferved, to  fuppofable  oppofition,  unwillingnefs  and 
xefiftance  ;  whereas,  here,  the  very  fuppofition  ex- 
cludes and  denies  any  fuch  thing  :  for  the  cafe  fup- 
pofed is  that  of  being  willing  and  choofing. 

5.  It  appears  from  what  has  been  faid,  that  thefe 
terms  necejfary,  impoJJib[e,  Sec.  are  often  ufed  by  phi- 
lofophers  and  metaphyficians  in  a  fenfe  quite  diverfe 
from  their  common  ufe  and  original  fignification  : 
For  they  apply  them  to  many  cafes  in  which  no  op- 
pofition is  fuppofed  or  fuppofable.     Thus  they  ufe 


Scft.  III.  TheVature  of  l^tct^iiy.  si 

them  with  refpedl:  to  God's  exiftence  before  the  cre- 
ation of  the  world,  when  there  was  no  other  being 
but  He  :  fo  with  regard  to  many  of  the  difpofitions 
and  a£ts  of  the  Divine  Being.  Such  as  his  loving 
himfelf,  his  loving  righteoufnefs,  hating  fin,  &c.  So 
they  apply  thefe  terms  to  many  cafes  of  the  inclina- 
tions and  a6lions  of  created  intelligent  beings,  an- 
gels and  men  ;  wherein  all  oppofition  of  the  Will 
is  ftiut  out  and  denied,  in  the  very  fuppolition  of 
the  cafe. 

Metaphyfical  or  Philofophical  Neceffity  is  nothing 
different  from  their  certainty.  I  fpeak  not  now  of 
the  certainty  of  knowledge,  but  the  certainty  that  is 
in  things  themfelves,  which  is  the  foundation  of  the 
certainty  of  the  knowledge  of  them  ;  or  that  where- 
in lies  the  ground  of  the  infallibility  of  the  propofi- 
tion  which  affirms  them. 

What  is  fometimes  given  as  the  definition  of  phi- 
lofophical Neceffity,  namely,  That  by  which  a  thing 
cannot  but  be^  or  whereby  it  cannot  be  otherwife,  fails  of 
being  a  proper  explanation  of  it,  on  two  accounts  : 
Firjl,  the  words  can^  or  cannot,  need  explanation  as 
much  as  the  word  Neceffity  ;  and  the  former  may  as 
well  be  explained  by  the  latter,  as  the  latter  by  the 
former.  Thus,  if  any  one  afked  us  what  we  mean, 
when  we  fay,  a  thing  cannot  but  be,  we  might  ex- 
plain ourfeives  by  faying,  we  mean,  it  mufl  neceffa- 
rily  be  fo  ;  as  well  as  explain  Neceffity,  by  faying, 
it  is  that  by  which  a  thing  cannot  but  be.  And 
Secondly^  this  definition  is  liable  to  the  foremention- 
ed  great  inconvience  i  the  words  cannot,  or  unable, 
are  properly  relative,  and  have  relation  to  power  ex- 
erted, or  that  may  be  exerted,  in  order  to  the  thing 
fpoken  of;  to  which,  as  I  have  now  obferved,  the 
word  Neceffity,  as  ufed  by  philofophers,  has  no  re- 
ference. 

Philofophical  Neceffity  is  really  nothing  elfe  than 


22  The  Nature  of  Ncctffity,  Parti. 

the  full  and  fixed  connexion  between  the  things 
fjgoified  by  the  fiibjcft  and  predicate  of  a  propor- 
tion, which  afTirms  fomething  to  be  true.  When 
there  is  fuch  a  connexion,  then  the  thing  affirm- 
ed in  the  propofition  is  neceffary,  in  a  philolophical 
fenfe  ;  whether  any  oppofition,  or  contrary  efiFort 
be  fuppofed,  or  fuppofable  in  the  cafe,  or  no. 
When  the  fubje6l  and  predicate  of  the  propofition, 
which  affirms  the  exigence  of  any  thing,  either 
fubftance,  quality,  a£l  or  circumftance,  have  a  full 
and  certain  connexion,  then  the  exiftence  or  being 
of  that  thing  is  faid  to  be  neceffary  in  a  metaphyfical 
fenfe.  And  in  this  fenfe  I  ufe  the  word  Nccejfiiy,  in 
the  following  dilcourfe,  when  I  endeavour  to  prove 
that  Neccffity  is  not  inconfijlcnt  zvith  liberty. 

The  luhje6l  and  predicate  of  a  propofition.  which 
affirms  cxillence  of  fomething,  may  have  a  full,  fix- 
ed, and  certain  connexion  feveral  ways. 
-  (i.)  They  may  have  a  full  and  perfe6l  connexion 
in  and  of  themf elves  ;  becaufe  it  may  imply  a  contra- 
diction, or  grois  abfurdify,  to  fuppofe  them  not  con- 
ne6led.  Thus  many  things  are  neceffary  in  their 
own  nature.  So  the  external  exiftence  of  being 
generally  confidercd,  is  necefidry  in  itfelf :  becaufe 
it  would  be  in  itfelf  the  greateft:  abfurdit'y,  to  deny 
the  exiftence  of  being  in  general,  or  to  {d^y  there  was 
abfolute  and  univerfal  nothing  ;  and  is  as  it  were 
the  fum  of  all  contradi6lions  ;  as  might  be  fliewn, 
if  this  were  a  proper  place  for  it.  So  God's  infini- 
ty, and  other  attributes  are  neccllary.  So  it  is  ne- 
cefi"ary  in  its  own  nature,  that  two  and  two  fliould  be 
four  ;  and  it  is  necelfary,  that  all  right  lines  drawn 
from  the  centre  of  a  circle  to  the  circumference 
fhould  be  equal.  It  is  neceffary,  fit  and  fuitable, 
that  men  fhould  do  to  others,  as  they  would  that 
they  fhould  do  to  them.  So  innumerable  meta- 
phyfic?.!  and  mathematical  truths  are  neceffary  in 


Sea.  III.         The  Nat^j,rc  of  ^^^QCt^^iiy.  23 

them/elves  :  the  fubjc^l;  and  predicate  of  the  propo- 
(ition  which  affirms  ihein,  ave  pcrfc6lly  connedled  0/ 
thcmfdves. 

(2.)  The  connexion  of  the  fubjefl  and  predicate 
of  a  propofition,  which  atlirms  the  exiftence  of  fome- 
ihing,  may  be  fixed  and  made  certain,  becaufe  the 
exillence  of  that  thing  is  aheady  come  to  pafs ;  and 
either  now  is,  or  has  been  ;  and  fo  has  as  it  were 
made  fure  of  exinence.  And  therefore,  the  propofi- 
tion  which  afTirms  prefent  and  pall  exiftence  of  it, 
may  by  this  means  be  made  certain,  and  neceHj'arily 
and  unaherably  true;  the  pall  event  has  fixed  and 
decided  the  matter,  as  to  its  exiilence  ;  and  has  made 
it  impofiible  but  that  exiftence  fhould  be  truly  pre- 
dicated of  it.  Thus  the  exillence  of  whatever  is  al- 
ready come  to  pafs,  is  now  become  ncceflary ;  it  is 
become  impoliible  it  ftiould  be  olherwife  than  true, 
that  fuch  a  thing  has  been. 

(3.)  The  fubje6l  and  predicate  of  a  propofition 
which  afhrms  fomething  to  be,  may  have  a  real  and 
certain  connexion  conjcquently  ;  and  fo  the  exiftence 
of  the  thing  may  be  confequently  neccflary  ;  as  it 
may  be  fureiy  and  firmly  conne6ied  with  fomething 
elfe,  that  is  necellary  in  one  of  the  former  refoetls. 
As  it  is  either  fully  and  thoroughly  conneQed  with 
that  which  is  abfolutely  necelTary  in  its  own  nature, 
or  with  fomething  which  has  already  received  and 
made  fure  of  exiftence.  This  NcceiFuy  lies  in,  or 
may  be  explained  by  the  connexion  of  two  or  more 
propofitions  one  with  another.  Things  which  are 
perfedly  conne6led  with  other  things  that  are  nc- 
ceflary, are  necellary  themfelves,  by  a  NecelFity  of 
confequence. 

And  here  it  may  be  obferved,  that  all  things  which 
are  future,  or  ivhich  will  hereafter  be^in  to  be.  which 
CMi  be  l.nd  to  be  necellary,  are  necellary  only  in  this 
lall  way.     Their  exiftence  is  not  ueccUluy  in  iifelf ; 


24  The  Nature  o/NcctBty.  Part  I, 

for  if  fo,  they  always  would  have  exifled.  Nor  is 
their  exillence  become  neceffary  by  being  made 
fure,  by  being  already  come  to  pafs.  Therefore,  the 
only  way  that  any  thing  that  is  to  come  to  pafs 
hereafter,  is  or  can  be  neceffary,  is  by  a  connexion 
with  fomething  that  is  neceffary  in  its  own  nature, 
or  fomething  that  already  is,  or  has  been  ;  fo  that: 
the  one  being  fuppofed,  the  other  certainly  follows. 
And  this  alfo  is  the  only  way  that  all  things  paft, 
excepting  thofe  which  were  from  eternity,  could  be 
nec&ffary  before  they  came  to  pafs,  or  could  come  to 
pafs  neceffarily ;  and  therefore  the  only  way  in  which 
any  effect  or  event,  or  any  thing  whatfoever  that 
ever  has  had,  or  will  have  a  beginning,  has  come 
into  being  neceffarily,  or  will  hereafter  neceffarily 
exifl.  And  therefore  this  is  the  Neceffity  which  ef- 
pecially  belongs  to  controverfies  about  the  a6ls  of 
the  Will. 

It  may  be  of  fome  ufe  in  thefe  controverfies,  fur- 
ther to  obferve  concerning  metaphyfical  Neceffity", 
that  (agreeable  to  the  diftinftion  before  obferved  of 
Neceffity,  as  vulgarly  underftood)  things  that  exift 
may  be  faid  to  be  neceffary,  either  with  a  general  or 
particular  Neceffity.  The  exiftence  of  a  thing  may 
be  faid  to  be  neceffary  with  a  ^<rn^rj/ Neceffity,  when 
all  things  whatfoever  being  confidered,  there  is  a 
foundation  for  certainty  of  their  exiftence ;  or  when 
in  the  moft  general  and  univerfal  view  of  things, 
the  fubjeCt  and  predicate  of  the  propofition,  which 
affirms  its  exiftence,  would  appear  with  an  infallible 
connexion. 

An  event,  or  the  exiftence  of  athing,  may  be  faid 
to  be  neccllary  with  a  particular  Neceffity,  or  with 
regard  to  a  particular  perfon,  thing  or  time,  when 
nothing  that  can  be  taken  into  confideration,  in  or 
about  that  perfon,  thing  or  time,  alters  the  cafe  at 
all,  as  to  the  certainty  of  that  event,  or  the  exiftence 


Se£l.  III.         The  Nature  o/" Neccifity.  ^       2g 

of  that  thing;  or  can  be  of  any  account  at  all,  in 
determining  the  infallibility  of  the  connexion  of  the 
fubje6l  and  predicate  in  the  propofition  which  af- 
firms the  exiflence  of  the  thing  ;  fo  that  it  is  all  one, 
as  to  that  perfon,  or  thing,  at  lead  at  that  time,  as 
if  the  exiftence  were  necelFary  with  a  Neceffity  that 
is  moft  univerfal  and  abfolate.  Thus  there  are  many 
things  that  happen  to  particular  perfons,  which  they 
have  no  hand  in,  and  in  the  exiftence  of  which  no 
will  of  theirs  has  any  concern,  at  leafl  at  that  time  ; 
which,  whether  they  are  necefifary  or  not,  with  re- 
gard to  things  in  general,  yet  are  necefl'ary  to  them, 
and  with  regard  to  any  volition  of  theirs  at  that 
time ;  as  they  prevent  all  a61;s  of  the  will  about  the 
aflPair. — I  (hall  have  occafion  to  apply  this  obferva- 
tion  to  particular  inftances  in  the  followincT  dif- 
courfe. — Whether  the  fame  things  that  are  necelTary 
with  a  particular  l^tct^^ity,  be  not  alfo  necefl'ary  with 
a  general  NecefFity,  may  be  a  matter  of  future  confid- 
eration.  Let  that  be  as  it  will,  it  alters  not  the  cafe, 
as  to  the  ufe  of  this  didinQion  of  the  kinds  of  Ne- 
ceffity. 

Thefe  things  may  be  fufficient  for  the  explainintr 
of  the  terms  nccejfary  and  Necejfiiy^  as  terms  of  art, 
and  as  often  ufed  by  metaphyficians,  and  contro- 
verfial  writers  in  divinity,  in  a  fenfe  diverfe  from, 
and  more  extenlive  than  their  original  meaning,  in 
common  language,  which  was  before  explained. 

What  has  been  faid  to  fhew  the  meaning  of  the 
terms  nccejfary  and  Necejfity^  may  be  fufficient  for  the 
explaining  of  the  oppohte  terms  impoffibk  and  m- 
pojjibility.  For  there  is  no  difPerence,  but  only  the 
latter  are  negative,  and  the  former  pofitive.  Im- 
fojjibility  is  the  fame  as  negative  Nccejfuy,  or  a  Necef- 
fity that  a  thing  fliould  not  be.  And  it  is  ufed  as  a 
term  of  art  in  a  like  diverfjty  from  the  original  and 
vulgar  meaning,  with  Neceffity. 

F 


26  The  Nature  o/Neceffity,  Part  L 

The  fame  may  be  obfcrved  concerning  the  words 
unable  and  Inability,  It  has  been  obfcrved,  that  thefe 
terms,  in  their  original  and  common  ufe,  have  re- 
lation to  will  and  endeavour,  as  fuppofable  in  the 
cafe,  and  as  infufficient  for  the  bringing  to  pafs  the 
thing  willed  and  endeavoured.  But  as  thefe  terms 
are  often  ufed  by  philofophers  and  divines,  efpeci- 
ally  writers  on  controverfies  about  Free-Will,  they 
are  ufed  in  a  quite  different,  and  far  more  extenfive 
fenfe,  and  are  applied  to  many  cafes  wherein  no  will 
or  endeavour  for  the  bringing  of  the  thing  to  pafs,  is 
or  can  be  fuppofed,  but  is  adually  denied  and  ex- 
cluded in  the  nature  of  the  cafe. 

As  the  words  necejfary,  impojfibk,  unable.  Sec.  are 
ufed  by  polemic  writers,  in  a  fenfe  diverfe  from 
their  common  fignification,  the  like  has  happened 
to  the  term  contingent.  Any  thing  is  faid  to  be  con- 
tingent, or  to  come  to  pafs  by  chance  or  accident, 
in  the  original  meaning  of  fuch  words,  when  its  con- 
nexion with  its  caufes  or  antecedents,  according  to 
the  eftablifhed  courfe  of  things,  is  not  difcerned; 
and  fo  is  what  we  have  no  means  of  the  forefight  of. 
And  efpecially  is  any  thing  faid  to  be  contingent 
or  accidental  with  regard  to  us,  when  any  thing 
comes  to  pafs  that  we  are  concerned  in,  as  occafions 
or  fubje6ls,  without  our  foreknowledge,  and  befide 
our  defign  and  fcope. 

But  the  word  contingent  is  abundantly  ufed  in  a 
very  different  fenfe  ;  not  for  that  whofe  connexion 
with  the  feries  of  things  we  cannot  difcern,  fo  as  to 
forefee  the  event,  but  for  fomethin^  which  has  ab- 
folutely  no  previous  ground  or  reafon,  with  which 
its  exiftence  has  any  fixed  and  certain  connexion. 


Sc£l.IV.    (yNatuial^nt/ Moral  Neceffity.  27 


Section     IV. 

Of  the  DiJlinUion  o/"  Natural  and  Moral  Neceflity,  and 
Inability. 

1  HAT  Neceflity  which  has  been  explained,  confid- 
ing in  an  infallible  connexion  of  the  things  fignified 
by  the  fubjeft  and  predicate  of  a  propofition,  as  in- 
telligent beings  are  the  fubjefts  of  it,  is  diftinguifh- 
ed  into  moral  and  natural  Neceflity. 

I  (hall  not  now  (land  to  enquire  whether  this  dif- 
tindlion  be  a  proper  and  perfeft  diftinftion ;  but 
ftiall  only  explain  how  thefe  two  forts  of  Neceffity 
are  underftood,  as  the  terms  are  fometimes  ufed,  and 
as  they  are  ufed  in  the  following  difcourfe. 

The  phrafe,  moral  NeceJfUy,  is  ufed  varioufly  : 
fometimes  it  is  ufed  tor  a  Necefhty  of  moral  obliga- 
tion. So  we  fay,  a  man  is  under  Neceflity,  when  he 
is  under  bonds  of  duty  and  confcience,  which  he 
cannot  be  difcharged  from.  So  the  word  Necejfity  is 
often  ufed  for  great  obligation  in  point  of  intereft. 
Sometimes  by  moral  Neceflity  is  meant  that  appar- 
ent connexion  of  things,  which  is  the  ground  of 
moral  evidence  ;  and  fo  is  diftinguifhed  from  ahfolute 
Necejfity,  or  that  fure  connexion  of  things,  that  is  a 
foundation  for  infallible  certainly.  In  this  fenfe, 
moral  Neceflity  fignifies  much  the  fame  as  that  high 
degree  of  probability,  which  is  ordinarily  fufficient 
to  fatisfy,  and  be  relied  upon  by  mankind,  in  their 
conduft  and  behaviour  in  the  world,  as  they  would 
confult  their  own  fafety  and  interefl:,  and  treat  oth- 
ers properly  as  members  of  fnciety.  And  fome- 
times by  moral  Neceflity  is  meant  that  Neceflity  of 
connexion  and  confequence,  which  arifes  from  fuch 
moral  caufes,  as  the  ftrength  of  inclination,  or  mo- 


28  0/ Natural  and  Moral  NecefTity.      Part  I. 

tivcs,  and  the  connexion  which  there  is  in  many 
cafes  between  thefc,  and  i'uch  certain  volitions  and 
a6lions.  And  it  is  in  this  fenfe,  that  I  ufe  the  phrafe, 
7noral  NcccffUy,  in  the  following  difcourfe. 

]^y  natural  Neceffity^  as  applied  to  men,  I  mean 
fuch  necelGty  as  men  are  under  through  the  force  of 
natural  caufes  ;  as  diftinguiftied  from  what  are  call- 
ed moral  caufes,  fuch  as  habits  and  difpofitions  of 
the  heart,  and  moral  motives  and  inducements. 
Thus  men  placed  in  certain  circumftances,  are  the 
fubjefts  of  particular  fenfations  by  Neceffity  :  they 
feel  pain  when  their  bodies  are  wounded;  they  fee 
the  objeQs  prefented  before  them  in  a  clear  light, 
when  their  eyes  are  opened  :  fo  they  affent  to  the 
truth  of  certain  propofitions,  as  foon  as  the  terms 
are  underftood  ;  as  that  two  and  two  make  four, 
that  black  is  not  white,  that  two  parallel  lines  can 
never  crofs  one  another;  fo  by  a  natural  Neceffity 
mens'  bodies  move  downwards,  when  there  is  noth- 
ing to  fupport  them. 

But  here  feveral  things  may  be  noted^concern- 
ing  thefe  two  kinds  of  Neceffity. 

1.  Moral  Necediry  may  be  as  abfolute,  as  natural 
>Ieccffiry.  7"hat  is,  the  efFe6l  may  be  asperfeftly 
connedled  with  its  moral  caule,  as  a  natural  necef- 
fary  clYttl  is  with  its  natural  caufe.  Whether  the 
Will  in  every  cafe  is  ncceifarily  determined  by  the 
ilrongtll  motive,  or  whether  the  Will  ever  makes 
any  reiidance  to  luch  a  motive,  or  can  ever  oppofe 
the  Ilrorigell  prefent  inclination,  or  not  ;  if  that 
matter  IJiould  be  controverted,  yet  1  fuppofe  none 
ivill  deny,  but  that,  in  fome  cafes,  a  previous  bias 
and  inclination,  or  the  motive  prefented,  may  be  fo 
powerful,  that  the  a6l  of  the  Will  may  be  certainly 
and  indiilblubly  conne6led  therewith.  When  mo- 
tives or  previous  bias  are  very  lirong,  all  will  allow- 
that  there  i^   (ome  dijiadty  in   [ip\\v.\  a;.'^ainft   them* 


SeQ:.  IV.  6)/ Natural  and  Moral  NecefTity.  29 

And  if  they  were  yet  (Ironger,  the  difficulty  would  be 
Hill  graater.  And  therefore,  if  more  were  Qill  add- 
ed to  their  flrength,  to  a  certain  degree,  it  would 
make  the  difficulty  fo  great,  that  it  would  be  whol- 
ly impoffihh  to  lurmount  it  ;  for  this  plain  rcafon, 
becaufe  whatever  power  men  may  be  fuppofed  to 
have  to  furmount  difficulties,  yet  that  power  is  not 
infinite;  and  fo  goes  not  beyond  certain  limits.  If 
a  man  can  furmount  ten  degrees  of  difliculty  of  this 
Icind  with  twenty  degrees  of  ilrcngth,  becaufe  the 
degrees  of  flrength  ore  beyond  the  degrees  of  diffi- 
culty ;  yet  if  the  difficult)^  be  increafed  to  thirty,  or 
an  hundred,  or  a  thoufand  degrees,  and  his  ftreugth 
not  alfo  increafed,  his  ftrength  will  be  wholly  infuf- 
ficient  to  furmount  the  difficult)^  As  therefore  it 
mull  be  allowed,  that  there  may  be  fuch  a  thing  as 
2ijurc  and  -perfeB  connexion  between  moral  cau ies 
and  effeds ;  fo  this  only  is  what  I  call  by  the  name 
of  moral  Nccejfity, 

2.  When  1  ufe  this  diftindion  of  moral  and  natur- 
al Necejfity,  I  would  not  be  underflood  to  fuppofe, 
that  it  any  thing  comes  to  pafs  by  the  former  kind 
of  Neceffity,  the  nature  of  things  is  not  concerned  in 
it,  as  well  as  in  the  latter.  I  do  not  mean  to  deter- 
mine, that  when  a  moral  habit  or  m.otive  is  fo  (Irong, 
that  the  a6l  of  the  Will  infallibly  follows,  this  is  not 
owing  to  the  nature  0/  things.  But  thefe  are  the 
names  that  thefe  two  kinds  of  Neceffity  have  ufually 
been  called  by;  and  they  muft  be  diflinguiffied  by 
fome  names  or  other;  for  there  is  a  diflinction  or 
difference  between  them,  that  is  very  important  in 
its  confequcnces.  Which  difference  docs  not  lie 
fo  much  in  the  nature  of  the  connexion,  as  in  the  two 
terms  conneBed.  The  caufe  with  which  the  cffcft;  is 
conne6led,  is  of  a  particular  kind,  viz.  that  which 
is  of  moral  nature;  either  fome  previous  habitual 
difnohtion,  or  fom^e  motive  exhibited  to  the  under- 


^0  Of  Natural  ^ni  Moral  Necefiity.      Part  I, 

Handing.  And  the  efFeCl  is  alfo  of  a  particular 
kind;  being  likewife  of  a  moral  nature;  confifting 
in  feme  inclination  or  volition  of  the  foul  or  volun- 
tary a6lion. 

1  fuppofe,  that  Neceffity  which  is  called  natural^ 
in  diflin6lion  from  moral  neceffity,  is  fo  called,  be- 
canfe  vierc  nature,  as  the  word  is  vulgarly  ufed,  is 
concerned,  without  any  thing  of  choice.  The  word 
nature  is  often  ufed  in  oppofition  to  choice:  not  be- 
caufc  nature  has  indeed  never  any  hand  in  our 
choice ;  but  this  probably  comes  to  pafs  by  means 
that  we  firft  get  our  notion  of  nature  from  that  dif- 
ccvnible  and  obvious  courfe  of  events,  which  we  ob- 
ferve  in  many  things  that  our  choice  has  no  concern 
in;  and  efpecially  in  the  material  world;  which,  in 
very  many  parts  of  it,  we  eafily  perceive  to  be  in  a 
fettled  courfe  ;  the  dated  order  and  manner  of  fuc- 
cefFion  being  very  apparent.  But  where  we  do  not 
readily  difcern  the  rule  and  connexion,  (though there 
be  a  connexion,  according  to  an  eftabliftied  law, 
truly  taking  place)  we  fignify  the  manner  of  event 
by  fome  other  name.  Even  in  many  things  which 
are  feen  in  the  material  and  inanimate  world,  which 
do  not  difcernibly  and  obvioufly  come  to  pafs  ac- 
cording to  any  fettled  courfe,  men  do  not  call  the 
manner  of  the  event  by  the  name  of  nature,  but  by 
fuch  names  as  accident,  chance,  contingent,  ccc.  So 
men  make  a  diflindion  between  nature  and  choice  ; 
as  though  they  were  completely  and  univerfally  dif- 
tin6t.  Whereas,  I  fuppofe  none  will  deny  but  that 
choice,  in  many  cafes,  arifes  from  nature,  as  truly  as 
other  events.  But  the  dependence  and  connexion 
between  a61s  of  volition  or  choice,  and  their  caufes, 
acGOidmg  to  eflablifhcd  laws,  is  not  fo  fcnfible  and 
obvious.  And  we  obferve  that  choice  is  as  it  were 
a  new  principle  of  motion  and  a6lion,  different  from 
that  cftablifhed  law  and  order  of  things  which  is  mofl 


Sea.  IV.  0/"Moral  Neceflfity.  .<  31 

obvious,  that  is  feen  efpecially  in  corporeal  and 
fenlible  things  ;  and  alfo  the  choice  often  interpofes, 
interrupts  and  alters  the  chain  of  events  in  thefe  ex- 
ternal obje6ls,  and  caufes  them  to  proceed  other- 
wife  than  they  would  do,  if  let  alone,  and  left  to  go 
on  according  to  the  laws  of  motion  among  them- 
ielves.  Hence  it  is  fpoken  of  as  if  it  were  a  princi- 
ple of  motion  entirely  diftintt  from  nature,  and 
properly  fet  in  oppofition  to  it.  Names  being  com- 
monly given  to  things,  according  to  what  is  mod 
obvious,  and  is  fuggefted  by  what  appears  to  the 
fenfes  without  reflexion  and  refearch. 

3.  It  muft  be  obferved,  that  in  what  has  been  ex- 
plained, as  fignified  by  the  name  of  moral  Necejfity, 
the  word  Neceffiiy  is  not  ufed  according  to  the  origi- 
nal defign  and  meaning  of  the  word  :  for.  as  was 
obferved  before,  fuch  terms,  necejfary,  impojfible^  irre^ 
Jijlible,  &c.  in  common  fpeech,  and  their  mod  prop- 
er fenfe,  are  always  relative ;  having  reference  to 
fome  fuppofable  voluntary  oppofition  or  endeavour, 
that  is  infufficient.  But  no  fuch  oppofition,  or  con- 
trary will  and  endeavour,  is  fuppofable  in  the  cafe 
of  moral  Neceflity  ;  which  is  a  certainty  of  the  in- 
clination and  will  itfeif  ;  which  does  not  admit  of 
the  fuppofition  of  a  will  to  oppofe  and  refill  it. 
For  it  is  abfurd  to  fuppofe  the  fame  individual  will 
to  oppofe  itfeif,  in  its  prefent  ad  ;  or  the  prefent 
choice  to  be  oppofite  to,  and  refilling  prefent  choice : 
a.s  abfurd  as  it  is  to  talk  of  two  contrary  motions, 
in  the  fame  moving  body,  at  the  fame  time.  And 
therefore  the  very  cafe  fuppofed  never  admits  of 
any  trial,  whether  an  oppofing  or  refilling  will  can 
overcome  this  Neccliity. 

What  has  been  f^ud  of  natural  and  moral  Necef- 
fity,  may  ferve  to  explain  what  is  intended  by  natu- 
ral and  moral  Inability.  We  are  laid  to  be  naturally 
unable  to  do  a  thing,    when  we  cannot  do  it  if  we 


32  OJ  Moral  Inability.  Part  I. 

will,  bec/ufe  what  is  mod  commonly  called  nature 
does  not  allow  of  it,  or  becaufe  of  Tome  impeding 
defeat  or  obdacle  that  is  extrinfic  to  the  will ;  either 
in  the  faculty  of  underflanding,  conflitution  of 
body,  or  external  objeds.  Moral  Inability  confifts 
not  m  any  of  thefe  things ;  but  either  in  the  want  of 
inclination  ;  or  the  ftrength  of  a  contrary  inclina- 
tion ;  or  the  want  of  fufficient  motives  in  viev*',  to 
induce  and  excite  the  a6l  of  the  will,  or  the  ftrength 
of  apparent  motives  to  the  contrary.  Or  both  thefe 
may  be  refolved  into  one  ;  and  it  may  be  faid  in  one 
.  word,  that  moral  Inability  confifts  in  the  oppofttion 
or  want  of  inclination.  For  when  a  perfon  is  una- 
ble to  will  or  choofe  fuch  a  thing,  through  a  defe6l 
of  motives,  or  prevalence  of  contrary  motives,  it  is 
the  iame  thing  as  his  being  unable  through  the  want 
of  an  inclination,  or  the  prevalence  of  a  contrary 
inclination,  in  fuch  circumftances,  and  under  the 
influence  of  fuch  views. 

To  give  lome  inftances  of  this  moral  Inability, — 
A  woman  ol  great  honour  and  chaftity  may  have  a 
moral  Inability  to  proftitute  herfelf  to  her  flave.  A 
-child  of  great  love  and  duty  to  his  parents,  may  be 
unable  lo  be  willing  to  kill  his  father.  A  very  laf- 
civious  Kian,  in  cafe  of  certain  opportunities  and 
temptations,  and  in  the  abfence  of  fuch  and  fuch 
rcftraints,  may  be  unable  to  forbear  gratifying  his 
lull.  A  drunkard,  under  fuch  and  fuch  circum- 
ftances, may  be  unable  to  forbear  taking  of  ftrong 
drink.  A  very  malicious  man  may  be  unable  to  exert 
benevolent  a£ls  to  an  enemy,  -or  to  delire  his  prof- 
peiity  ;  yea,  fome  may  be  lo  under  the  power  of  a 
vile  dilpofition,  that  lliey  may  be  unable  to  love 
thole  who  are  molt  worthy  of  their  efteem  and  affec- 
tion. A  Hrong  habit  of  virtue,  and  great  degree 
of  holincls  \\\a\  caufe  a  moral  Inability  to  love 
\vickcdncfs  in  general,  may  render  a  man  unable  to 


Sea.  IV.  OJ  Moral  Inability.  3  j 

take  complacence  in  wicked  perfons  or  things ;  or 
to  choofe  a  wicked  life,  and  prefer  it  to  a  virtuous 
life.  And  on  the  other  hand,  a  great  degree  of 
habitual  wickednefs  may  lay  a  man  under  an  Ina- 
bility to  love  and  choofe  holinefs  j  and  render  him 
utterly  unable  to  love  an  infinitely  holy  Being,  or 
to  choofe  and  cleave  to  him  as  his  chief  good. 

Here  it  may  be  of  ufe  to  obferve  this  diftin6tion 
of  moral  Inability,  viz,  of  that  which  is  general  and 
habitual,  ^and  that  which  is  particular  and  occafionalm 
l^y  a  general  and  habitual  moral  Inability,  I  mean  an 
Inability  in  the  heart  to  all  exercifes  or  a6ls  of  will 
of  that  nature  or  kind,  through  a  fixed  and  habitu- 
al inclination,  or  an  habitual  and  dated  defe^:,  or 
want  of  a  certain  kind  of  inclination.  Thus  a  very 
ill-natured  man  may  be  unable  to  exert  fuch  a6ls  of 
benevolence,  as  another,  who  is  full  of  good  nature, 
commonly  exerts  ;  and  a  man,  whofe  heart  is  hab- 
itually void  of  gratitude,  may  be  unable  to  exert 
fuch  and  fuch  grateful  a6is,  through  that  dated  de- 
feat of  a  grateful  inclination.  By  particular  and  oc-^ 
cajional  moral  Inability,  I  mean  an  Inability  of  the 
will  or  heart  to  a  particular  a6t,  through  the  ftrength 
or  defe6l  of  prefent  motives,  or  of  inducements  pre- 
fented  to  the  view  of  the  underftanding,  on  this  occa-> 
fion*  If  it  be  fo,  that  the  will  is  always  determined 
by  the  ftrongeft  motive,  then  it  mull  always  have 
an  Inability,  in  this  latter  fenfe,  to  a6l  otherwife 
than  it  does  ;  it  not  being  poflible,  in  any  cafe,  that 
the  will  (hould,  at  prefent,  go  againft  the  motive 
which  has  now,  all  things  confidered,  the  greateft 
ftrength  and  advantage  to  excite  and  induce  it* 
The  former  of  thefe  kinds  of  moral  Inability,  con- 
fiding in  that  which  is  dated,  habitual  and  general, 
is  mod  commonly  called  by  the  name  of  Inability ; 
becaufe  the  word  Inability,  in  its  mod  proper  and 
original  fignification,  has  refped  to  fome  Jlated  de^ 

G 


g4  OJ  Moral  Inability.  Part  I. 

Jc5l..  And  this  efpecially  obtains  the  name  of  Ina^ 
bility  alfo  upon  another  account  :  I  before  obferved, 
that  the  word  InabiUty  in  its  original  and  moft  com- 
mon ufe,  is  a  relative  term  ;  and  has  refped  to  will 
and  endeavour,  as  fuppofable  in  the  cafe,  and  as  in- 
lufficicnt  to  bring  to  pafs  the  thing  defired  and  en- 
deavoured Now  there  may  be  more  of  an  appear- 
ance and  fh  idow  of  this,  with  refped  to  the  afts 
which  arife  from  a  fixed  and  ftrong  habit,  than  oth- 
ers that  arife  only  from  tranfient  occafions  and  caufes. 
Indeed  will  and  endeavour  againft,  or  diverfe  from 
prcfcnt  a6ls  of  the  will,  are  in  no  cafe  fuppofable, 
whether  thofe  a6ts  be  occafional  or  habitual  ;  for 
that  would  be  to  fuppofe  the  will,  at  prefent,  to  be 
otherwife  than,  at  prefent,  it  is.  But  yet  there  may 
be  will  and  endeavour  ^gd\n^  future  a6ls  of  the  will, 
or  volitions  that  are  likely  to  take  place,  as  viewed 
at  a  diftance.  It  is  no  contradidion  to  fuppofe  that 
the  a£ls  of  the  will  d^l  one  time,  may  be  againft  the 
a6ts  of  the  will  at  another  time  ;  and  there  may  be 
defires  and  endeavours  to  prevent  or  excite  future 
a6ts  of  the  will  ;  but  fuch  defires  and  endeavours 
are,  in  many  cafes,  rendered  infufficient  and  vain, 
through  fixednefs  of  habit :  when  the  pccafion  re- 
turns, the  ftrength  of  habit  overcomes,  and  baffles 
all  fuch  oppofition.  In  this  refpe6l:,  a  man  may  be 
in  miferable  flavery  and  bondage  to  a  ftrong  habit. 
But  it  may  be  comparatively  eafy  to  make  an  alter- 
ation with  refpeft  to  fudi  future  a6ls  as  are  only 
occafional  and  tranfient ;  becaufe  the  occafion  or 
tranfient  caufe,  if  forefeen,  may  often  eafily  be  pre- 
vented or  avoided.  On  this  account,  the  moral  In- 
ability that  attends  fixed  habits,  efpecially  obtains 
the  name  of  Inability.  And  then,  as  the  will  may 
remotely  and  indiretily  refift  itfelf,  and  do  it  in  vain, 
in  the  cafe  of  ftrong  habits;  fo  reafon  may  refift 
prcfcnt  a6ts  of  the  will,  and  its  refiftance  be  infuffi- 


Sea  IV.  OJ  Moral  Inability.  35 

cient ;  and   this   is   more    commonly  the  cafe   alfo, 
when  the  a6ls  arife  from  ftrong  habit. 

But  it  muft  be  obferved  concerning  moral  Inabil- 
ity, in  each  kind  of  it,  that  the  word  Inability  is  ufed 
in  a  fenfe  very  diverfe  from  its  original  import.  The 
word  fignifies  only  a  natural  Inability,  in  the  proper 
ufe  of  it ;  and  is  applied  to  fuch  cafes  only  wherein 
a  prefent  will  or  inclination  to  the  thing,  with  refpeSl 
to  which  a  perfon  is  faid  to  be  unable,  is  fuppofable. 
It  cannot  be  truly  faid,  according  to  the  ordinary 
ufe  of  language,  that  a  malicious  man,  let  him  be 
^bever  fo  malicious,  cannot  hold  his  hand  from  flrik^ 
ing,  or  that  he  is  not  able  to  (hew  his  neighbour 
kindnefs  ;  or  that  a  drunkard,  let  his  appetite  be 
Ikever  fo  flrong,  cannot  keep  the  cup  from  his  mouth* 
In  the  ftrifteCl  propriety  of  fpeech,  a  man  has  a  thing 
in  his  power,  if  he  has  it  in  his  choice,  or  at  his  elec^ 
tion  :  and  a  man  cannot  be  truly  faid  to  be  unable 
to  do  a  thing,  when  he  can  do  it  if  he  will.  It  is 
improperly  faid,  that  a  perfon  cannot  perform  thofe 
external  adions  which  are  dependent  on  the  a6l  of 
the  will,  and  which  would  be  eafily  performed,  if 
the  a6l  of  the  will  were  prefent.  ^  And  if  it  be  im- 
properly faid,  that  he  cannot  perform  thofe  external 
voluntary  adions,  which  depend  on  the  will,  it  is  in 
feme  refpe61;  more  improperly  faid,  that  he  is  una- 
ble to  exert  the  ads  cf  the  will  themfelves  ;  becaufe 
it  is  more  evidently  falfe,  with  refped  to  thofe,  that 
he  cannot  if  he  will  :  for  to  fay  fo,  is  a  down-right 
contradidion  :  it  is  to  fay,  he  cannot  will,  if  he  doti 
will.)  And  in  this  cafe,  not  only  is  it  true,  that  it  is 
eafy  for  a  man  to  do  the  thing  if  he  will,  but  the 
very  willing  is  the  doing  ;  when  once  he  has  willed, 
the  thing  is  performed ;  and  nothing  elfe  remains  to 
be  done.  Therefore,  m  thefe  things  to  afcribe  a 
nonperformance  to  the  want  of  power  or  ability,  i^ 
r.ot  juft  ;  becaufe  the  thing  wanting  is  not  a  being 


^6  Tfu  Notion  of  Liberty,  Part  I. 

able,  but  a  being  willing.  There  are  faculties  of  mind, 
and  capacity  of  nature,  and  every  thing  elfe  fufficient, 
but  a  difpofition  :  nothing  is  wanting  but  a  will. 


Section     V. 

Concerning  the  Notion  of  Liberty,  and  of  Moral 
Agency, 

J.  HE  plain  and  obvious  meaning  of  the  words  Free-^ 
Ami  and  Liberty,  in  common  fpeech,  is  pemtr,  oppor^ 
tunity  or  advantage,  (hat  any  one  has,  to  do  as  he  pleafes. 
Or  in  other  words,  his  being  free  from  hinderance 
or  impediment  in  the  way  of  doing,  or  conducing 
in  any  refpefl,  as  he  wills  *  And  the  contrary  to 
Liberty,  whatever  name  we  call  that  by,  is  a  perfon's 
being  hindered  or  Unable  to  condu^  as  he  will,  or 
being  neceflitated  to  do  otherwife. 

If  this  which  I  have  mentioned  be  the  meaning 
of  the  word  Liberty,  in  the  ordinary  ufe  of  language ; 
as  I  trull  that  none  that  has  ever  learned  to  talk,  and 
is  unprejudiced,  will  deny  ;  then  it  will  follow,  that 
in  propriety  of  fpeech,  neither  Liberty,  nor  its  con- 
trary, can  properly  be  afcribed  to  any  being  or  thing, 
but  that  which  has  fuch  a  faculty,  power  or  proper- 
ty, as  is  called  will.  For  that  which  is  pofifeffed  of 
no  fuch  thing  as  will,  cannot  have  any  power  or  of-- 
fortunity  of  doing  according  to  its  -will,  nor  be  necefli- 
tated to  a6^  contrary  to  its  will,  nor  be  reftrained  from 
afting  agreeably  to  it.     And   therefore   to    talk    of 

♦  I  fay  not  only  doing,  but  conducing  i  becaufe  a  volunta- 
ry forbearing  to  do,  fitting  ftill,  keeping  filence,  &c.  are  in. 
ilances  of  perfons  conduEl,  about  which  Liberty  is  exercifecl ; 
though  they  are  not  fo  properly  called  doin^. 


S€£l.  V.  end  o/MoyhI  Agency.  gy 

Liberry,  or  the  contrary,  as  belonging  to  the  very 
will  ttfelfj  is  not  to  fpeak  good  fenle ;  if  we  judge  of 
fenfe,  and  nonfenfe,  by  the  original  and  proper  fig- 
nification  of  words.  For  the  will  iifelfh  not  an  A- 
gcnt  that  hai  a  will :  the  power  of  choofing  itfelf, 
has  not  a  power  of  choofing.  That  which  has  the 
power  of  volition  or  choice  is  the  man  or  the  fotj, 
and  not  the  power  of  volition  itfelf.  And  he  that 
has  the  Liberty  of  doing  according  to  his  will,  is  the 
Agent  or  doer  who  is  poffeffed  of  the  will ;  and  not 
the  will  which  he  is  poflefled  of.  We  fay  with  pro- 
priety, that  a  bird  let  loofe  has  power  and  Liberty  to 
fly  ;  but  not  that  the  bird's  power  of  flying  h^s  a 
power  and  Liberty  of  flying.  To  be  free  is  the  prop- 
erty of  an  Agent,  who  is  pofTelTed  of  powers  and 
faculties,  as  much  as  to  be  cunning,  valiant,  bounti- 
ful, or  zealous.  But  thefe  qualities  are  the  proper- 
ties of  men  or  perfons ;  and  not  the  properties  of 
properties. 

There  are  two  things  that  are  contrary  to  this 
which  is  called  Liberty  in  common  fpeeeh.  One  is 
conjlraint ;  the  fame  is  otherwife  called ybrc^,  com^ 
pulfioUy  and  coaclion ;  which  is  a  perfon's  being  ne- 
ceifitated  to  do  a  thing  contrary  to  his  will.  The 
other  is  rejlraint ;  which  is  his  being  hindered,  and 
not  having  power  to  do  according  to  his  will.  But 
that  which  has  no  will,  cannot  be  the  fubjc6l  of  thefe 
things. — I  need  fay  the  lels  on  this  head,  Mr.  Locke 
having  fet  the  fame  thing  forth,  with  fo  great  clcjgir- 
fiefs,  in  his  EJfay  oy,  the  Human  Undcrjlanding. 

But  one  thing  more  I  would  oblerve  concerning 
what  is  vulgarly  called  Liberty;  namely,  that  power 
and  opportunity  for  one  to  do  and  condu6l  as  he 
will,  or  according  to  his  choice,  is  ail  that  is  meant 
by  it ;  without  taking  into  the  meaning  of  the  v^ord 
any  thing  of  the  caufe  or  original  of  that  choice  ;  or 
at  all  confidering  how  the  pcrfon  came  to  have  fuch 


S  The  Notion  of  ]J\hQxtyf  Part  L 


a  volition  ;  whether  it  was  caufed  by  fome  external 
motive,  or  internal  habicual  bias  ;  whether  it  was 
determined  by  fome  internal  antecedent  volition,  or 
whether  it  happened  without  a  caufe;  whether  it 
was  necelTarily  conneded  with  fomething  foregoing, 
or  not  connefted.  Let  the  perfon  come  hy  his  vo- 
lition or  choice  how  he  will,  yet,  if  he  is  able,  and 
there  is  nothing  in  the  way  to  hinder  his  purfuing 
and  executing  his  will,  the  man  is  fully  5nd  perfe6t- 
ly  free,  according  to  the  primary  and  common  no- 
tion of  freedom. 

What  has  been  faid  may  be  fufEcient  to  fhew  what 
is  meant  by  Liberty^  according  to  the  common  no- 
tions of  mankind,  and  in  the  ufeful  and  primary 
acceptation  of  the  word  :  but  the  word,  as  ufed  by 
Arminians,  Pelagians  and  others,  who  oppofe  the 
Calvm/Jls,  has  an  entirely  different  fignification. — 
Thefe  feveral  things  belong  to  their  notion  of  Liber- 
ty. 1.  Thdit  it  coniifis  in  a  fel/-deter7nini7ig power  ia 
the  will,  or  a  certain  fovereignty  the  will  has  over 
itfelf,  and  its  own  a6ls,  whereby  it  determines  its 
own  volitions ;  fo  as  not  to  be  dependent  in  its  de-. 
terminations,  on  any  caufe  without  itfelf,  nor  deter- 
mined by  any  thing  prior  to  its  own  ads.  2.  /«- 
difference  belongs  to  Liberty  in  their  notion  of  it,  or 
(hat  the  mind,  previous  to  the  ad  of  volition  be,  in 
iquilibrio,  3.  Contingence  is  another  thing  that  be- 
longs and  is  effential  to  ic ;  not  in  the  common  ac- 
ceptation of  the  word,  as  that  has  been  already  ex- 
plained, but  as  oppoled  to  all  ntujfiiy^  or  any  fixed 
and  certain  connexion  with  lome  previous  ground 
or  rcafon  of  its  exiftence.  They  fuppofe  the  elTence 
of  Liberty  fo  much  to  confill  in  thefe  things,  that 
unlefs  the  will  of  man  be  free  in  this  fenfe,  he  has 
no  real  freedom,  howmuchloever  he  may  be  at  Lib- 
erty to  ad  according  to  his  will. 

A  moral  Agent  is  a  being  that   is  capable  of  thofe 


Se6l.  V.  and  of  Moral  Agency.  39 

adions  that  have  a  moral  quality,  and  which  can 
properly  be  deno  ninated  good  or  evil  in  a  moral 
fenfc,  virtuous  or  vicious,  commendable  or  faulty. 
To  moral  Agency  belongs  a  moral  faculty,  or  fenfe 
of  moral  good  and  evil,  or  of  fuch  a  thing  as  defert 
or  worthinefs,  of  praife  or  blame,  reward  or  punifli- 
ment;  and  a  capacity  which  an  Agent  has  of  being 
influenced  in  his  adions  by  moral  inducements  or 
motives,  exhibited  to  the  view  of  underftanding  and 
reafon,  to  engage  to  a  condu61  agreeable  to  the  mor- 
al faculty. 

The  fun  is  very  excellent  and  beneficial  in  its  ac- 
tion and  influence  on  the  earth,  in  warming  it,  and 
caufing  it  to  bring  forth  its  fruits  ;  but  it  is  not  a 
moral  Agent  :  its  a6lion,  though  good,  is  not  virtu- 
ous or  meritorious.  Fire  that  breaks  cut  in  a  city, 
and  confumes  great  part  of  it,  is  very  mifchievous 
in  its  operation;  but  is  not  a  moral  Agent  :  what 
it  does  is  not  faulty  or  finful,  or  deferving  of  any 
punifhment.  The  brute  creatures  are  not  moral  A- 
gents:  the  aQions  of  fome  of  them  are  very  profita- 
ble and  pleafant;  others  are  very  hurtful  :  yet,  fee- 
ing they  have  no  moral  faculty,  or  fenfe  of  defert, 
and  do  not  a6l  from  choice  guided  by  underftand- 
ing,  or  with  a  capacity  of  reafoning  and  refledling, 
but  only  from  inllindi,  and  are  not  capable  of  being 
influenced  by  moral  inducements,  their  anions  are 
not  properly  finful  or  virtuous ;  nor  are  they  prop- 
erly the  fubjeds  of  any  fuch  moral  treatment  for 
what  they  do,  as  moral  Agents  are  for  th  ir  faults  or 
good  deeds.  # 

Here  it  may  be  noted,  that  there  is  a  circuoaflan- 
tial  diflPerence  between  the  moral  Agency  of  a  ruler 
^nd  ^fuhjed.  I  call  it  circimjiantial,  becaufe  it  lies 
only  in  the  diff'erence  of  moral  inducements  they  are 
capable  ot  being  influenced  by,  arifing  from  the  dif- 
ference of  circumjiances.     A  ruler  admg  iu  that  ca- 


|0  The  Notion  of  Liberty,  Part  I. 

p:\ci(y  otily,  is  not  capable  of  being  influenced  by  a 
moral  law,  and  its  lantlions  of  thrcatenings  and 
promifes,  rewards  and  punifliments,as  thtfubje^is  ; 
ihough  both  may  be  influenced  by  a  knowledge  of 
moral  good  and  evil.  And  therefore  the  moral  a- 
gency  of  the  Supreme  Being,  who  acts  only  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  a  rider  towards  his  creatures,  and  never  as 
iifuhjed,  differs  in  that  refpe^t  from  the  moral  Agen- 
cy of  created  intelligent  begins.  God's  adlions,  and 
particularly  thofe  which  he  exerts  as  a  moral  govern- 
or, have  moral  qualifications,  are  morally  good  in 
the  higheft  degree.  Thev  are  moft  perfe6lly  holy 
and  righteous  :  and  we  mad  conceive  of  Him  as  in- 
fluenced  in  the  higheft  degree,  by  that  which,  above 
^U  others,  is  properly  a  moral  inducement,  viz.  the 
moral  good  which  He  fees  in  fuch  and  fuch  things  : 
and  therefore  He  is,  in  the  moft  proper  lenfe,  a  moral 
Agent,  the  fource  of  all  moral  ability  and  Agency, 
the  fountain  and  rule  of  all  virtue  and  moral  good  ; 
though  by  reafon  of  his  being  iupreme  over  all,  it  is 
not  poflible  He  (hould  be  under  the  influence  of  law 
or  command,  promifes  or  thrcatenings,  rewards  or 
punidimcnts,  counfels  or  warnings.  The  eflential 
qualities  of  a  moral  Agent  are  in  God,  in  the  greateft 
poftible  perfedion  ;  fuch  as  underftanding,  to  per- 
ceive the  difference  between  moral  good  and  evil ;  a 
capacity  of  difcerning  that  moral  wotthinefs  and  de- 
merit, by  which  fome  things  are  praife-worthy,  oth- 
ers deferving  of  blame  and  punilhment ;  and  alfo  a 
capacity  of  choice,  and  choice  guided  by  underftand- 
ing, and  a  power  of  ading  according  to  his  choice  or 
pleafure,  and  being  capable  of  doing  thofe  things 
which  ale  in  ihe  higheft  fenfe  praife-worthy.  And 
herein  does  vtry  much  confift  that  image  of  God 
wherein  he  mc^dc  man,  (which  we  read  of,  Geti.  I. 
26,  27.  and  Ciuid.  IX.  6.)  by  which  God  diftinguiOi- 
cd  man  fforu  the  beads,  mz.  in  thofe  faculties  atud 


Se61:.  V.  and  ^t/"  Moral  Agency,  4^. 

principles  of  nature,  whereby  He  is  capable  of  moral 
Agency.  Herein  very  nnuch  confifls  the  natural 
image  of  God  ;  as  his  fpiritual  and  moral  image, 
wherein  man  was  made  ac  firft,  confided  in  that 
moral  excellency,  that  he  was  endowed  with. 


H 


PART       II. 


Wherein  it  is  confulercd  whether  there  is  or  can  he  any 
fuch  Sort  oj  Fi^PEDoM  OF  Will,  as  that  wherein 
Arminians  place  the  EJfence  of  the  Liberty  of  all  moral 
Agents ;  and  whether  any  fuch  Thing  ever  was  or 
can  be  conceived  of 


E    C    T     I    O    N 


Shewing  the  manifefi  Inconfflence  of  the  Arminian  Ne- 
tion  o/' Liberty  of  Will,  confijling  in  the  Will's  felf- 
detennining  Power. 

JljLaving  taken  notice  of  thofe  things  which  may  be 
nccefTarv  to  be  obferved,  concernin2[  the  meanincr  of 
the  principal  terms  and  phrafes  made  ufe  of  in  con- 
troverfies  concerning  human  Liberty,  and  particu- 
larly obferved  what  Liberty  is  according  to  the  com- 
mon language  and  general  apprehenfion  of  mankind, 
and  what  it  is  as  underflood  and  maintained  by  Ar- 
vnnians ;  I  proceed  to  confider  the  Arminian  notion 
of  the  Freedom  of  the  Will,  and  the  fuppofed  necefiity 
of  it  in  order  to  moral  agency,  or  in  order  to  any 
one's  being  capable  of  virtue  or  vice,  and  properly 
the  fubjett  of  command  or  counfel,  praife  or  blame, 
promiles  or  threatcnings,  rewards  or  punilhments  ; 
or  whether  that  which  has  been  defcribcd,  as  the 
thing  meant  by  Liberty  in  common  fpeech,  be  not 
fufficient,  and  the  only  Liberty  which  makes  or  can 
make  any  one  a  moral  agent,  and  fo  propc  \y  the 
fubje^l  of  thelc  things.     In  this  Part,   I  fiiall  con- 


Se£l.  I.  The  Tnconfijitnu^  &c.  43 

fider  whether  any  fuch  thing  be  poffible  cr  conceiv- 
able, as  that  Freedom  of  Will  which  Arminians  in- 
fifl  on  ;  and  fhall  enquire,  whether  any  fuch  fort  of 
Liberty  be  neceflary  to  moral  agency,  ^c.  in  the 
next  Part. 

And  fiifl  of  all,  I  (liall  confider  the  notion  of  a 
f elf- determining  Power  in  the  will  :  wherein,  accord- 
ing to  the  Arminians,  does  mofl;  effentially  confift 
the  Will's  Freedom  ;  and  fhall  particularly  enquire, 
whether  it  be  not  plainly  abfurd,  and  a  manifeft  in- 
confillence,  to  fuppofe  that  the  will  itjclj determines 
all  the  free  aBs  of  the  Will, 

Here  I  (hall  not  infift  on  the  great  impropriety  of 
fuch  phra fes  and  ways  of  fpeaking  as  the  Will's  de^ 
termining  itfelf ;  becaufe  adions  are  to  be  afcribed 
to  agents,  and  not  properly  to  the  powers  of  agents; 
which  improper  way  of  fpeaking  leads  to  many  mif- 
takes,  and  much  confufion,  as  Mr.  Locke  obferves. 
But  I  fhall  fuppofe  that  the  Arminians,  when  they  fpeak 
of  the  Will's  determining  itfelf,  do  by  the  Will  mean 
i\\&  foul  willing,  I  fhall  take  it  for  granted,  that  when 
they  fpeak  of  the  Will,  as  the  determiner,  they  mean 
the  foul  in  the  exercife  of  a  poioer  of  willing,  or  adling 
voluntarily,  I  fhall  fuppofe  this  to  be  their  meaning, 
becaufe  nothing  elfe  can  be  meant,  without  the  groff- 
eft  and  plainefl  abfurdity.  In  all  cafes  when  we  fpeak 
of  the  powers  or  principles  of  ading,  as  doing  fuch 
things,  we  mean  that  the  agents  which  have  thefe 
Powers  of  a6ling,  do  them  in  the  exercife  of  thofe 
Powers.  So  when  we  fay,  valour  fights  courage- 
oufly,  we  mean,  the  man  who  is  under  the  influence 
of  valour  fights  courageoufly.  When  we  fay,  love 
feeks  the  object  loved,  we  mean,  the  perfon  loving 
feeks  that  objeft.  When  we  fay,  the  underftanding 
difcerns,  we  mean  the  foul  in  the  exercife  of  that 
faculty.  So  when  it  is  faid,  the  will  decides  or  de- 
termines,  the   meaning  mult  be,  that  the  perfon  in 


44  1'h't  IncQnfiJlcncc  of  Part  II. 

the  exercife  of  a  Power  of  willing  and  choofing,  or 
the  foul  a6ling  voluntarily,  determines. 

Therefore,  if  the  Will  determines  all  its  own  free 
a£ls,  the  foul  determines  all  the  free  ads  of  the  Will 
in  the  exercife  of  a  Power  of  willing  and  choofing  ; 
or,  which  is  the  fame  thing,  it  determines  them  of 
choice  ;  it  determines  its  own  a6ls  by  choofing  its 
own  ads.  If  the  Will  determines  the  Will,  then 
choice  orders  and  determines  the  choice  :  and  acts 
of  choice  are  fubje6l  to  the  decifion,  and  follow  the 
conduft  of  other  ads  of  choice.  And  therefore  if 
the  Will  determines  all  its  own  free  a6ls,  then  every 
free  ad  of  choice  is  determined  by  a  preceding  a6l 
of  choice,  choofing  that  ad.  And  if  that  preceding 
ad  of  the  Will  or  choice  be  alfo  a  free  ad,  then  by 
thefe  principles,  in  this  ad  too,  the  Will  is  felf-de- 
termined  :  that  is,  this,  in  like  manner,  is  an  ad  that 
the  foul  voluntarily  choofes  ;  or,  which  is  the  fame 
thing,  it  is  an  ad  determined  ftill  by  a  preceding  ad 
of  the  Will,  choofing  that.  And  the  like  may  agaia 
be  obferved  of  the  laft  mentioned  ad  ;  which  brings 
us  diredly  to  a  contradidion  :  for  it  fuppofes  an  ad 
of  the  Will  preceding  the  firft  ad  in  the  whole  train, 
direding  and  determining  the  reft  ;  or  a  free  ad  of 
the  Will,  before  the  firft  free  ad  of  the  Will.  Or 
elfe  we  muft  come  at  laft  to  an  ad  of  the  W^ill,  de- 
termining the  confequent  ads,  wherein  the  Will  is 
not  felf-determined,  and  fo  is  not  a  free  ad,  in  this 
notion  of  freedom  :  but  if  the  firft  ad  in  the  train, 
determining  and  fixing  the  reft,  be  not  free,  none  of 
them  all  can  be  free  ;  as  is  manifeft  at  firft  view,  but 
(hall  be  demonftrated  prefently. 

If  the  Will,  which  we  find  governs  the  members 
of  the  body  and  determines  and  commands  their 
motions  and  actions,  does  alfo  govern  itfelf,  and  de- 
termine its  own  motions  and  actions,  it  doubtlefs  de- 
termines  them  the  fame  w^y,    even  by  antecedent 


Se6l.  I.  Self' determining  Power.  45 

volitions.  The  Will  determines  which  way  the 
hands  and  feet  (hall  move,  by  an  a6l  of  volition  or 
choice  :  and  there  is  no  other  way  of  the  Will's  de- 
termining, directing  or  commanding  any  thing  at  all. 
Whatsoever  the  Will  commands,  it  commands  by  an 
^61  of  the  Will.  And  if  it  has  itfelf  under  its  com- 
mand, and  determines  itfelf  in  its  own  adions,  it 
doubtlefs  does  it  the  fame  way  that  it  determines 
other  things  which  are  under  its  command.  So  that 
if  the  freedom  of  the  Will  confifts  in  this,  that  it  has 
itfelf  and  its  own  a6tions  under  its  com.m.ind  and 
dire6lion,  and  its  own  volitions  are  determined  by 
itfelf,  it  will  follow,  that  every  free  volition  arifes 
from  another  antecedent  volition,  directing  and  com- 
manding that  :  and  if  that  direciing  volition  be  alfo 
free,  in  that  alfo  the  Will  is  determined  :  that  is  to 
fay,  that  direding  volition  is  determined  by  another 
going  before  that  ;  and  fo  on,  until  we  come  to  the 
firft  volition  in  the  whole  feries  :  and  if  that  firft 
volition  be  free,  and  the  Will  felf-determined  in  it, 
then  that  is  determined  by  another  volition  preced- 
ing that  :  which  is  a  contradiftion  ;  becaufe  by  the 
fuppofition,  it  can  have  none  before  it  to  direft  or 
determine  it,  being  the  firfl:  in  the  train.  But  if  that 
firft  volition  is  not  determined  by  any  preceding  a6l 
.of  the  Will,  then  that  a6l  is  not  determined  by  the 
Will,  and  fo  is  not  free  in  the  Arminian  notion  of 
freedom,  which  confifts  in  the  Will's  felf-determina- 
tion.  And  if  that  firft  a6l  of  the  Will,  which  de- 
termines and  fixes  the  fubfequent  a6ls,  be  not  free, 
none  of  the  following  a6ls,  which  are  determined  by 
it,  can  be  free.  If  we  fuppofe  there  are  five  a6is  in 
the  train,  the  fifth  and  laft  determined  by  the  fourth, 
and  the  fourth  by  the  third,  the  third  by  the  fccond, 
and  the  fecond  by  the  firft  ;  if  the  firft  is  not  deter- 
mined by  the  WilJ,  and  fo  not  free,  then  none  of 
them  aie  truly  determined  by  the  Will  :   that  is,  that 


4^  The  Ldconjijlence,  Sec,  Part  II. 

each  of  them  arc  as  they  are,  and  not  othervvife,  is 
not  firft  owing  to  the  Vv'ill,  but  to  the  determinaiion 
of  the  firfl  in  the  feries,  which  is  not  dependent  on 
the  Will,  and  is  that  which  the  Will  has  no  hand  in 
the  determination  of.  And  this  being  that  which 
decides  what  the  reft  fliall  be,  and  determines  their 
exiftence  ;  therefore  the  firft  determination  of  their 
exiftence  is  not  from  the  Will.  The  cafe  is  juft  the 
lame,  if  inftead  of  a  chain  of  five  a6ls  of  the  Will, 
we  ftiould  fuppofe  a  fucceflion  of  ten,  or  an  hundred, 
or  ten  thoufand.  If  the  firft  a6l  be  not  free,  beine 
determined  by  fomething  out  of  the  Will,  and  this 
determines  the  next  to  be  agreeable  to  itfelf,  and  that 
the  next,  and  fo  on  ;  they  aie  none  of  them  free, 
but  all  originally  depend  on,  and  are  determined  by 
fome  caufe  out  of  the  Will  :  and  fo  ail  freedom  in 
the  cafe  is  excluded,  and  no  a6l  of  the  Will  can  be 
free,  according  to  this  notion  of  freedom.  If  we 
fhould  fuppofe  a  long  chain  of  ten  thoufand  links, 
lb  connected,  that  if  the  firft  link  moves,  it  will  move 
the  next,  and  that  the  next ;  and  fo  the  whole  chain 
muft  be  determined  to  motion,  and  in  the  dire6lion 
of  its  motion,  by  the  motion  of  the  firft  link  ;  and 
that  is  moved  by  fomething  elfe  :  in  this* cafe,  though 
all  the  links,  but  one,  are  moved  by  other  parts  of 
the  fame  chain  ;  yet  it  appears  that  the  motion  of 
no  one,  nor  the  direQion  of  its  motion,  is  from  any 
felf.moving  or  lelf-determining  Power  in  the  chain, 
any  more  than  if  every  link  were  immediately  mov- 
ed by  fomething  that  did  not  belong  to  the  chain. 
If  the  Will  be  not  free  in  the  firft  a6t,  which  cauf  s 
the  next,  then  neither  is  it  free  in  the  next,  which  is 
caufed  by  that  firft  a6l :  for  though  indeed  the  Will 
caufed  it,  yet  it  did  not  c.uife  it  freely  ;  becaufe  the 
preceding  a6l,  by  which  it  was  caufed,  was  not  free. 
And  again,  if  the  will  be  not  free  in  the  fecond  ad, 
i'o  neiihci  can  it  be  in  the  third,  which  is  caufed  by 


Sc6l.  II.        SuppofcA  Evafions  confidered.  47 

that ;  becaufe  in  like  manner,  that  third  was  de- 
termined by  an  atl  of  the  Will  that  was  not  free. 
And  fo  we  may  go  on  to  the  next  a 61,  and  from  that 
to  the  next  ;  and  how  long  foever  the  rucceflion  of 
a61s  is,  it  is  all  one  ;  if  the  firft  on  which  the  whole 
chain  depends,  and  which  determines  all  the  rcfl,  be 
not  a  free  a^fc,  the  will  is  not  free  in  caufing  or  de- 
termining any  one  of  thole  a6ls  i  becaufe  the  a61:  hy 
which  it  determines  them  all,  is  not  a  free  a6l ;  and 
therefore  the  Will  is  no  more  free  in  determining  them 
than  if  u  did  not  caufe  them  at  all.  Thus,  this  Ar- 
minian  uoixow  of  Liberty  ot  the  Will,  confining  in 
the  WilTs  Self-dettrviuiation,  is  repugnant  to  ilfelf, 
and  ihuts  itfelf  wholly  out  of  the  world. 


Section     II. 

Several fuppcfcd  Ways  o/Evsidlng  the  forejoing  Reafon^ 
ing  confidered. 

If  to  evade  the  force  of  what  has  been  obferved, 
it  (hould  be  faid,  that  when  the  Arrninians  fpeak  of 
the  Will's  deicrminingits  own  a6ls,  they  do  not  mean 
that  the  Will  determines' its  af.is  by  any  preceding 
a6l,  or  that  one  a6l  of  the  Will  determines  another  ; 
but  only  that  the  faculty  or  power  of  Will,  or 
the  foul  in  the  ufe  of  that  power,  determines  its  own 
volitions  ;  and  that  it  does  it  wiihout  any  aQ  going 
before  the  7\tl  determined  ;   fuch   an  evafion   would 

be  full  of  the  mod  grofs  abfurdity. 1  confefs,  it 

is  an  evafion  of  my  own  inventing  ;  and  I  do  not 
know  bull  (hould  wrong  the  Arminians/\n  fuppofing 
that  any  of  them  v>'0uld  make  ufe  of  it.  But  it  be- 
ing as  good  a  one  as  1  can  invent,  I  would  obfcrve 
upon  it  a  few  thi.fgs. 


48  Suppofed  Evafions  confidcred.         Part  !!• 

Firjl-^li iht  faculty  or  power  of  the  will  deter- 
mines an  a6l  of  volition,  or  the  foul  in  the  ufe  or 
excrcife  of  that  po-cver^  determines  it,  that  is  the  fame 
thing  as  for  the  foul  to  determine  volition  by  an  a(fi 
of  Will.  For  an  cxercife  of  the  power  of  Will,  and  an 
atl  of  that  power,  are  the  fame  thing.  Therefore  to 
fay,  that  the  power  of  Will,  or  the  loul  in  the  ufe  or 
excrcife  of  that  power,  determines  vilition,  without 
an  act  of  Will  preceding  the  volition  determined,  is 
a  contradi6lion. 

Secondly — If  a  power  of  Will  determines  the  aQ:  of 
the  will,  then  a  power  of  choofing  determines  it. 
For,  as  was  before  obferved,  in  every  a6l  of  Will, 
there  is  choice,  and  a  power  of  willing  is  a  power  of 
choofing.  But  if  a  power  of  choohng  determines 
the  a6l  of  volition,  it  determines  it  by  choofing  it. 
For  it  is  mod  abfurd  to  fay,  that  a  power  of  choof- 
ing determines  one  thing  rather  than  another,  with- 
out choofing  any  thing.  But  if  a  power  of  choofing 
determines  volition  by  choofing  it,  then  here  is  the 
aft  of  volition  determined  by  an  antecedent  choice, 
choofing  that  volition. 

Thirdly — To  fay,  the  faculty,  or  the  foul,  deter- 
mines its  own  volition,  but  not  by  any  aft,  is  a  con- 
tradiftion.  Becaufe  for  the  foul  to  direct,  decide,  or 
determine  any  thing,  is  to  aft  ;  and  this  is  fuppofed  ; 
for  the  foul  is  here  fpoken  of  as  being  a  caufe  in  this 
affair,  bringing  fomething  to  pafs,  or  doing  fome- 
thing  ;  or,  which  is  the  fame  thing,  exerting  itfelf 
in  order  to  an  effeft,  which  efFeft  is  the  determina- 
tion of  volition,  or  the  particular  kind  and  manner 
of  an  aft  of  Will.  But  certainly  this  exertion  or 
aftion  is  not  the  fame  with  the  efFeft,  in  order  to  the 
produftion  of  which  it  is  exerted ;  but  mufl  be  fome- 
thing prior  to  it. 

Again — The  advocates  for  this  notion  of  the  free- 
dom of  the  Will,  (peak   of  a  certain  fovcrcignly  in 


SeQ.  II.       SuJ?pofed  EvdiHons  covfidered,  49 

the  Will,  whereby  it  has  power  to  determine  its  owa 
volitions.  And  therefore  the  determination  of  vo- 
lition muft  itfelf  be  an  aft  of  the  Will  ;  for  otherwife 
it  can  be  no  exercife  of  that  fuppoled  power  and 
fovereignty. 

J^am — If  the  Will  determines  iifelf,  then  either 
the  Will  is  aSlivc  in  determining  its  volitions,  or  it  is 
not.  If  it  be  a6live  in  it,  then  the  determination  is 
an  ^<^of  the  Will ;  and  fo  there  is  one  a6l  of  the  Will 
determininoj  another.  But  if  the  Will  is  not  adiv^ 
in  the  determination,  then  how  does  it  cxcrcifc  any 
liberty  in  it  ?  Thefe  gentlemen  fuppofe  that  the 
thing  wherein  the  Will  exercifcs  liberty,  is  in  its  de- 
termining its  own  a6ls.  But  how  can  this  be,  if  it 
be  not  a^ive  in  determining  ?  Certainly  the  Will,  or 
the  foul,  cannot  exercife  any  liberty  in  that  wherein  it 
doth  not  aB,  or  wherein  it  doth  not  exercife  itfelf » 
So  that  if  either  part  of  this  dilemma  be  taken,  this 
Icheme  of  liberty,  confiding  in  felf-determining 
power,  is  overthrown.  If  there  be  an  a6l  of  the 
Will  in  determining  all  its  own  free  a6ls,  then  one 
free  aft  of  the  Will  is  determined  by  another  ;  and 
fo  we  have  the  abfurdity  of  every  free  aft,  even  the 
very  firfl:,  determined  by  a  foregoing  free  aft.  But 
if  there  be  no  aft  or  exercife  of  the  Will  in  deter- 
mining its  own  afts,  then  no  liberty  is  exercifed  in 
determining  them.  From  whence  it  follows,  that 
no  liberty  confifts  in  the  Will's  power  to  determine 
its  own  afts  :  or,  which  is  the  fame  thing,  that  there 
is  no  fuch  thing  as  liberty  conhliing  in  a  felf-deter- 
mining power  of  the  Will. 

If  it  (hould  be  faid.  That  although  it  be  true,  if 
the  foul  determines  its  own  volitions,  ic  mufl  be  ac- 
tive in  fo  doing,  and  the  determination  itfelf  mufl 
be  an  aft  ;  yet  there  is  no  need  of  fuppoling  this  aft 
to  be  prior  to  the  volition  determined  ;  but  the  Will 
or  foul  determines  the  aft  of  the  Will  in  wHIwf  :  it 


50  Suppojcd  Eva  (ions  confjcrcd.         Part  II. 

determines  its  own  volition,  in  the  very  a£l  of  voli- 
tion ;  it  directs  and  limits  the  a6l  of^the  Will,  caul- 
ing  it  to  be  lo  and  not  oiherwife,  m  exerting  the  a^i, 
\vi:hout  any  preceding  a6l  to  exert  that.  If  any 
fhould  fay  after  this  manner,  they  muft  mean  one 
of  ihefe  three  things  :  Either,  (i.)  That  the  deter- 
mininiT  ^f}  though  it  be  before  the  a6l  determin- 
cd  in  the  order  of  nature,  yet  is  not  before  it  in  order 
of  time.  Or,  (2.)  That  the  determining  a6l  is  not 
before  the  a6l  determined,  either  in  the  order  of  time 
cr  nature,  nor  is  truly  dillin6l  from  it  ;  but  that  the 
foul's  determining  the  aft  of  volition  is  the  fame 
thing  with  its  exerting  fuch  a  particular  a6l,  is  its 
caufing  and  determining  the  aft.  Or,  (3.)  That 
volition  has  no  caufe  and  is  no  efFeft  ;  but  comes 
into  exiilence,  with  fuch  a  particular  deter  nination, 
without  any  ground  or  reafon  of  its  exiflcnce  and 
determination.     I  fhall  confider  thefe  diftindly. 

(1.)  Ii  all  that  is  meant,  be,  that  the  determining 
a6l  if)  not  before  the  a6l  determined  in  order  of  time, 
it  will  not  help  the  cafe  at  all,  though  it  fhould  be 
allowed.  If  it  be  before  the  determined  a6l  in  the 
.order  of  nature,  being  the  caufe  or  ground  of  its  ex- 
iftence,  this  as  much  proves  it  to  be  diftinft  from  it, 
and  independent  of  it,  as  if  it  were  before  in  the  or- 
der of  lime.  As  the  caufe  of  the  particular  motion 
of  a  natural  body  in  a  certain  direftion,  may  have 
no  diltance  as  to  time,  yet  cannot  be  the  fame  with 
the  modon  effefted  -by  it,  but  muft  be  as  diftincl 
from  it  as  any  other  caufe  that  is  before  its  effeft 
in  the  order  of  time  :  as  the  archite6l  is  diflinft  from 
the  houfe  which  he  builds,  or  the  father  diftin6l 
from  the  fon  which  he  begets.  And  if  the  a6l  of  the 
Will  determining  be  diftm6t  from  the  a6l  determin- 
ed, and  before  it  in  the  order  of  nature,  then  we  can 
go  back  from  one  to  another,  till  we  come  to  the  firfl 
in  the  feries,  which  has  no  a6t  of  the  Will  before  it 


5e6l.  II.        Siippofed  EvsiCions  confidcred,  51 

in  the  order  of  nature,  determining  it  ;  and  confe- 
quentlv  is  an  ad  not  determined  by  the  Will,  and 
fo  not  a  free  ad,  in  this  notion  of  freedom.  And 
this  being  the  a6l  which  determines  all  the  red,  none 
of  them  are  free  a6ls.  As  when  there  is  a  chain  of 
many  links,  the  firft  of  which  only  is  taken  hold  of 
and  drawn  by  hand  ;  all  the  reft  may  follow  and  be 
moved  at  the  fame  inftant,  without  any  diftance  of 
time  ;  but  yet  the  motion  of  one  link  is  before  thae 
of  another  in  the  order  of  nature  ;  the  laft  is  moved 
by  the  next,  and  fo  till  we  come  to  the  firft  ;  which 
not  being  moved  by  any  other,  but  by  fomething 
diftintl  from  the  whole  chain,  this  as  much  proves 
that  no  part  is  moved  by  any  felf-moving  power  in 
the  chain,  as  if  the  motion  of  one  link  followed  that 
of  another  in  the  order  of  time. 

(2.)  If  any  fhould  fay,  that  the  determining  ad  is 
not  before  the  determined  ad,  either  in  order  of  time, 
or  of  nature,  nor  is  diftind  from  it  ;  but  that  the 
exertion  of  the  ad  is  the  determination  of  the  ad  ;  that 
for  the  foul  to  exert  a  particular  volition,  is  for  it  to 
caufe  and  determine  that  ad  of  volition  :  I  would 
on  this  obferve,  that  the  thing  in  queftion  feems  to 
be  forgotten,  or  kept  out  of  light,  in  a  darknefs  and 
unintelligiblenefs  of  fpeech  ;  unlefs  fuch  an  objedor 
would  mean  to  contradid  himfelf.  The  very  a6l  of 
volition  itfelf  is  doubtlefs  a  determination  of  mind  ; 
i,  e.  it  is  the  mind's  drawing  up  a  conclufion,  or 
coming  to  a  choice  between  two  things,  or  more, 
propofed  to  it.  But  determining  among  external 
objecis  of  choice,  is  not  the  fame  v/ith  determining 
the  aB  of  choice  itfelf,  among  various  poflible  ads 
of  choice. — The  queftion  is,  What  influences,  di- 
reds,  or  determines  the  mind  or  Will  to  come  to  fuch 
a  conclufion  or  choice  as  it  does  ?  Or  what  is  the 
caufe,  ground  or  rcafon,  why  it  concludes  thus,  and 
nototherwife  ?  Now  it  muft  be  aniWercd,  according 


52  Suppofed  Evafions  confidered.       Part  II. 

to  the  A rmifiiaji  notion  of  freedom,  that  the  Will  in- 
fluences, orders  and  determines  itfelf  thus  to  aft. 
And  if  it  does,  I  fay,  it  muft  be  by  feme  antecedent 
aft.  To  fay,  it  is  caufed,  influenced  and  determin- 
ed by  fomething,  and  yet  not  determined  by  any 
thing  antecedent,  either  in  order  of  time  or  nature, 
is  a  contradiftion.  For  that  is  what  is  meant  by  a 
thing's  being  prior  in  the  order  of  nature,  that  it  is 
fomc  way  the  caufe  or  reafon  of  the  thing,  with  re- 
fpeft  to  which  it  is  faid  to  be  prior. 

If  the  particular  aft  or  exertion  of  Will,  which 
comes  into  exiftence,  be  any  thing  properly  deter- 
mined at  all,  then  it  has  fome  caule  of  its  cxifting, 
and  of  its  exifling  in  fuch  a  particular  deterT>inate 
manner,  and  not  another  ;  fome  caufe,  whofe  influ- 
ence decides  the  matter  :  which  caufe  is  diftinft  from 
the  cfFeft,  and  prior  to  it.  But  to  fay,  that  the  Will 
or  mind  orders,  influences  and  determines  itfelf  to 
exert  fuch  an  aft  as  it  does,  by  the  very  exertion  it- 
felf, is  to  make  the  exertion  both  caufe  and  eff^eft  ; 
or  the  exerting  fuch  an  aft,  to  be  a  caufe  of  the  ex- 
ertion of  fuch  an  aft.  For  the  queflion  is,  What  is 
the  caufe  and  reafon  of  the  foul's  exerting  fuch  an 
aft  ?  To  which  the  anfwer  is,  The  foul. exerts  fuch 
an  aft,  and  that  is  the  caufe  of  it.  And  fo,  by  this, 
the  exertion  muft  be  prior  in  the  order  of  nature  to 
itfelf,  and  diftinft  from  itfelf. 

(3.)  If  the  meaning  be,  that  the  foul's  exertion  of 
fuch  a  particular  aft  of  Will,  is  a  thing  that  comes  to 
pafs  of  itfelf,  without  any  caufe  ;  and  that  there  is 
abfolutely  no  ground  or  reafon  of  the  foul's  being 
determined  to  exert  fuch  a  volition,  and  make  fuch 
a  choice,  rather  than  another,  I  {Ay,  if  this  be  the 
mt2imt)go{  Arminians,  when  they  contend  foearneft- 
ly  for  the  Will's  determining  its  own  afts,  and  for 
liberty  of  Will  confifting  in  felf-determining  power; 
they  do  nothing  but  confound  themfflvcs  and  oth- 


Se£l;.  II.       Suppofed  Evafions  confidcrcd.  53 

crs  with  words  without  meaning.  In  the  quefiion, 
What  determines  the  Will  ?  and  in  their  anfwer,  that 
the  Will  determines  itjelf,  and  in  all  the  difpute  about 
it,  it  I'eems  to  be  taken  for  granted,  that  fomething 
determines  the  Will  ;  and  the  controverfy  on  this 
head  is  not,  whether  any  thing  at  all  determines  it, 
or  whether  its  determination  has  any  caufe  o>:  foun- 
dation at  all  :  but  where  the  foundation  of  it  is, 
whether  in  the  Will  itfelf,  or  fome where  elfe.  But 
if  the  thing  intended  be  what  is  abovementioned, 
then  all  comes  to  this,  that  nothing  at  all  determines 
the  Will  ;  volition  having  abfolutely  no  caufe  or 
foundation  of  its  exiftence,  either  within,  or  without. 
There  is  a  great  noife  made  about  felf-determining 
power,  as  the  fource  of  all  free  a6ls  of  the  Will : 
but  when  the  matter  comes  to  be  explained,  the 
meaning  is,  that  no  power  at  all  is  the  fource  of  thefe 
a6is,  neither  felf-determining  power,  nor  any  other, 
but  they  arife  from  nothing;  no  caufe,  no  power, 
no  influence,  being  at  all  concerned  in  the  matter. 

However,  this  very  thing,  even  that  the  free  a6ls 
of  the  Will  are  events  which  come  to  pafs  without  a 
caufe,  is  certainly  implied  in  the  Arminian  notion  of 
liberty  of  Will ;  though  it  be  very  inconliftent  with 
many  other  things  in  their  fcheme,  and  repugnant 
to  fome  things  implied  in  their  notion  of  liberty. 
Their  opinion  implies,  that  the  particular  determi- 
nation of  volition  is  without  any  caufe  ;  becaufe 
they  hold  the  free  a6ls  of  the  Will  to  be  contingent 
events  ;  and  contingence  is  effential  to  freedom  in 
their  notion  of  it.  But  certainly,  thofe  things  which 
have  a  prior  ground  and  reafon  of  their  particular 
exiftence,  a  caufe  which  antecedently  determines 
them  to  be,  and  determines  them  to  be  jull  as  they 
are,  do  not  happen  contingently.  If  fomething 
foregoing,  by  a  cafual  influence  and  connexion,  de- 
termines and  fixes  precifely  their  coming  to  paf^. 


54  ^<J  Event  without  a  Caufe,  Part  II. 

and  the  manner  of  it,  then  i;  rloes  not  remaiii  ->.  con- 
tingent thing  whether  they  (ha]:  t  ome  to  pals  or  no. 
And  becaufe  it  is  a  qucflion,  in  niauy  rc^rpe6ts, 
very  important  in  this  controverfy  abour  the  iree- 
dom  of  Will,  whether  the  free  acls  oj  the  Will  arc  events 
which  come  to  pafs  without  a  caujt  ?  I  fhall  be  partic- 
ular in  examining  this  point  in  the  two  following 
fcftions. 


Section     III. 

Whether  any  Event  whatfoever,  and  Volition  in  par^ 
ticular^  can  come  to  pafs  without  a  Caufe  of  its  ex* 

iflence. 

JjEFORE  I  enter  on  any  argument  on  this  rubje6l, 
I  would  explain  how  I  would  be  underftood,  when 
I  ufe  the  word  Caufe  in  this  difcourfe  :  fince,  for 
want  of  a  better  word,  I  fhall  have  occafion  to  ufe 
it  in  a  fenfe  which  is  more  extenfive,  than  that  in 
which  it  is  fometimes  ufed.  The  word  is  often  ufed 
in  fo  reftrained  a  fenfe  as  to  fignify  only  that  which 
has  a  pofitive  efficiency  or  influence  to  produce  a  thing, 
or  bring  it  to  pafs.  But  there  are  many  things  which 
have  no  fuch  pofitive  produdive  influence  ;  which 
yet  are  Caufes  in  that  refpt6l,  that  they  have  truly 
the  nature  of  a  ground  or  reufon  why  iome  things 
are,  rather  than  others  ;  or  why  they  are  as  (bey  are, 
rather  than  otherwife.  Thus  the  abfence  of  the  fun 
in  the  night,  is  not  the  Caufe  of  the  falliii;-  rf  the 
dew  at  that  time,  in  the  fame  manner  as  its  bt^-ms 
are  the  Caufe  of  the  afcending  of  the  vapours  in  the 
day-time  ;  and  its  withdraw metit  in  !:he  winter,  is 
not  in  the  fame  manner  the  Caufe  of  tie  freezing  of 
the  waters,  as  its  approach  in  the  fpring  ij>  ilie  Caufe 


Se6l.  III.        No  Event  without  a  Caufe.  55 

of  their  thawing.  But  yet  the  v/ithdrawment  or  ab- 
fence  of  the  iun  is  an  antecedent,  with  which  thefe 
efFeds  in  the  night  and  winter  are  conne6led,  and 
on  which  they  depend  ;  and  is  one  thing  that  be- 
longs to  the  ground  and  reafon  why  they  come  to 
pais  at  that  time,  rather  than  at  other  times  i  though 
ihe  abfence  of  the  fun  is  nothing  pofitive,  nor  has 
any  pofitive  influence. 

It  may  be  further  obferved,  that  when  I  fpeak  of 
connexion  of  Caufes  and  Effects,  I  have  refpedl  to  mor^ 
al  Caufes,  as  well  as  thole  that  are  called  natural  in 
diftinclion  from  them.  Moral  Caufes  may  be  Cauf- 
es in  as  proper  a  (enfe,  as  any  caufes  whatfoever  ; 
may  have  as  real  an  influence,  and  may  as  truly 
be  the  ground  and  reafon  of  an  Event's  coming  to 
pa  fs. 

Therefore  I  fomctimes  ufe  the  word  Canfe,  in  this 
enquiry,  to  fignify  any  antecedent,  either  natural  or 
moral,  pofidve  or  negative,  on  wnirh  an  Event, 
either  a  thing,  or  the  manner  and  circumflance  of  a 
thing,  fo  depends,  that  it  is  the  ground  and  reafon, 
either  in  whole,  or  in  part,  why  it  is,  rather  than 
not  ;  or  why  it  is  as  it  is,  rather  than  otherwife  ;  or, 
in  other  words,  any  antecedent  with  which  a  confe- 
quent  Event  is  fo  connecled,  that  it  truly  belonors 
to  the  reafon  why  the  propofition  which  affirms 
that  Event,  is  true  ;  whether  it  has  any  poGtive  in- 
fluence or  not.  And  in  an  agreeabienefs  to  this,  I 
fometimes  ufe  the  word  effect  for  the  confequence 
of  another  thing,  which  is  perhaps  rather  an  occa- 
fion  than  a  Caufe,  moll  properly  fpeaki ng. 

I  am  the  more  careful  thus  to  explain  xny  mean- 
ing, that  I  may  cut  offoccahon,  from  any  that  might 
leek  occafion  to  cavil  and  objed  againll  Tome  things 
which  1  may  {siy  concerning  the  dependence  of  ail 
things  which  come  to  pafs,  on  fome  Caufe,  and  their 
connexion  with  their  Caufe. 


56  No  Event  without  a  Caufe.         Part  II. 

Having  thus  explained  what  I  mean  by  Caufe, 
I  alTert  that  nothing  ever  comes  to  pafs  without  a 
Caufe.  What  is  felf-exiftent  muft  be  from  eterni- 
ty, and  muft  be  unchangeable  :  but  as  to  all  things 
that  begin  to  he,  they  are  not  felf-exiftent  and  there- 
fore  muft  have  fome  foundation  of  their  exiftence 

without  themfelves. That  whatfoever  begins  to 

be,  which  before  was  not,  muft  have  a  Caufe  why  it 
then  begins  to  exift,  feems  to  be  the  firft  dilate  of 
the  common  and  natural  lenfe  which  God  hath  im-  . 
planted  in  the  minds  of  all  mankind,  and  the  main 
foundation  of  all  our  reafonings  about  the  exiftence 
of  things,  paft,  prefent,  or  to  come. 

And  this  di6tate  ol  common  fenfe  equally  refpe£ls 
fubftances  and  modes,  or  things  and  the  manner 
and  circumftances  of  things.  Thus,  if  we  fee  a  bo- 
dy which  has  hitherto  been  at  reft,  ftart  out  of  a 
ftate  of  reft,  and  begin  to  move,  we  do  as  naturally 
and  necciiarily  fuppofe  there  is  fome  Caufe  or  rea- 
lon  of  liiis  new  mode  oi  exiftence,  as  of  the  exiftence 
of  a  body  itfelf  which  had  hitherto  not  exiftcd.  And 
lb  if  a  body,  which  had  hitherto  moved  in  a  certain 
dneclion,  fliould  fuddenly  change  the  diredion  of 
its  motion  ;  or  if  it  fliould  put  off  its  old  figure, 
and  take  a  new  one  ;  or  change  its  colour  :  the  be- 
ginning of  thefe  new  modes  is  a  new  Event,  and 
the  mind  of  mankind  necefl"arily  fuppofes  that  there 
is  fome  Caufe  or  reafon  of  them. 

If  this  grand  principle  of  common  fenfe  be  taken 
away,  all  arguing  from  eff'ccls  to  Cauies  ceafeth, 
and  fo  all  knowledge  of  any  exiftence,  befides  what 
we  have  by  the  moft  dire6t  and  immediate  intui- 
tion. Particularly  all  our  proof  of  the  being  of 
God  ccafes  :  we  argue  His  being  from  our  own  be- 
ing, and  the  being  of  other  things,  which  we  are  {cn^ 
liblc  once  were  not,  but  have  begun  to  be  ;  and 
fiom  the  being  of  the  world,  with  all  its  conftituent 


Sefl;.  III.       No  Event  without  a  Caufe.  57. 

parts,  and  the  manner  of  their  exiftence  ;  all  which 
we  fee  plainly  are  not  neceffary  in  their  own  nature, 
and  fo  not  felf-exiftent,  and  therefore  mufl  have  a 
Caufe.  But  if  things,  not  in  theml'elves  neceffary, 
may  begin  to  be  without  a  Caufe,  all  this  arguing 
is  vain. 

Indeed,  I  will  not  affirm,  that  there  is  in  the  na- 
ture of  things  no  foundation  for  the  knowledge  of 
the  Being  of  God  without  any  evidence  of  it  from 
His  works.  I  do  fuppofe  there  is  a  great  abfurdity 
in  the  nature  of  things  fimply  confidered,  in  fup- 
pofing  that  there  (hould  be  no  God,  or  in  denying 
Being  in  general,  and  fuppofing  an  eternal,  abfolute, 
univerfal  nothing  :  and  therefore  that  here  would 
be  foundation  of  intuitive  evidence  that  it  cannoc 
be,  and  that  eternal,  infinite,  mofl  perfeft  Being  mud 
be  ;  if  we  had  flrength  and  comprehenfion  of  mind 
fufficient,  to  have  a  clear  idea  of  general  and  uni- 
verfal Being,  or,  which  is  the  fame  thing,  of  the  in- 
finite, eternal,  moft  perfeQ  Divine  Nature  and  Ef- 
fence.  But  then  we  fhould  not  properly  come  to 
the  knovf ledge  of  the  Being  of  God  by  arguinrr  : 
but  our  evidence  would  be  intuitive  :  we  fhould  fee 
it,  as  we  fee  other  things  that  are  neceffary  in  them- 
felves,  the  contraries  of  which  are  in  their  own  na- 
ture abfurd  and  conlradidory  ;  as  we  fee  that  twice 
two  is  four;  and  as  we  fee  that  a  circle  has  no  an- 
gles. If  we  had  as  clear  an  idea  of  univerfal  in- 
finite entity,  as  we  have  of  thefe  other  things,  I 
fuppofe  v/e  ftiouid  mofl  intuitively  fee  the  abfur- 
dity of  fuppofing  fuch  Being  not  to  be  ;  fliouid  im- 
mediately fee  there  is  no  room  for  the  queflion, 
whether  it  is  pofiible  that  Being,  in  the  moil  Gener- 
al abflra£led  notion  of  it,  fhould  not  be.  But  we 
have  not  that  flrength  and  extent  of  mind,  to  know 
this  certainly  in  this  intuitive  independent  manner  : 
but  the  way  that  mankind  come  to  the  knowledge 

K 


58  No  Event  without  a  Caufe,         Part  II, 

of  the  Being  of  God,  is  that  which  the  apoftle  fpeaks 
of,  Rom.  i.  20.  The  invifible  things  of  Him,  from  the 
creation  of  the  world,  are  clearly  feen  ;  being  underjiood 
by  the  things  that  are  made  ;  even  his  eternal  power  and 
Godhead.  \Ntfrfi  afcend,  and  prove  a  pofteriori,  or 
from  efFe8:s,  that  there  mud  be  an  external  Caufe  ; 
and  ihtw  ft condly,  prove  by  argumentation,  not  intu- 
ition, that  this  Being  mud  be  nCvCefTarily  ex.;{lent  ; 
and  then  thirdly,  from  the  proved  necefiity  of  his  ex- 
iftence,  we  may  defend,  and  prove  many  of  bis  per- 
fections a  priori. 

But  if  once  this  grand  principle  of  common  fenfe 
be  given  up,  that  what  is  not  necejfary  in  itfelf  muft 
have  a  Caufe  ;  and  we  begin  to  maintain,  that  things 
may  come  into  exiftence,  and  begin  to  be,  which 
heretofore  have  not   been,   of  themfelves,  without 
any  Caufe  ;  all  our  means  of  afcending  in  our  argu- 
ing from  the  creature  to  the  Creator,  and  all  our 
evidence  of  the  Being  of  God,  is  cut  off  at  one 
blow.     In  this  cafe,  we  cannot  prove  that  there  is 
a  God,  either  from  the  Being  of  the  world,  and  the 
creatures  in  it,  or  from  the  manner  of  their  being, 
their  order,  beauty  and  ufe.     For  if  things   may 
come  into  exiflence  without  any  Caufe  at  all,  then 
they  doubtlefs  may  without  any  Caufe  anfwerable 
to  the  effe'51:.     Our  minds  do  alike  naturally   fup- 
pofe  and  determine  both  thefe  things  ;  namely,  that 
what  begins  to  be  has  a  Caufe,  and  alfo  that  it  has 
a  Caufe  proportionable  and  agreeable  to  the  efFe6l. 
The  fame  principle  which  leads  us  to  determine, 
that  there  cann'it  be  any  thing  coming  to  pafs  with- 
out a  Caufe,  leads  us  to  determine  that  there  cannot 
be  more  in  the  cSaEk  than  in  the  Caufe, 

Yea,  if  once  it  Ihould  be  allowed,  that  things  may 
come  to  pafs  without  a  Caufe,  we  fhould  not  only 
have  no  proof  of  the  Being  of  God,  but  we  fhould 
be  without  evidence  of  the  exillence  of  any  thing 


Seft.  III.       No  Event  without  a  Caufe,  53 

whatfoever,  but  our  own  immediately  prefcnt  ideas 
and  confcioufnefs.  For  we  have  no  way  to  prove 
any  thing  elfe,  but  by  arguing  from  e{re6ls  to  Cauf- 
es  :  from  the  ideas  now  immediately  in  view  :  we 
argue  other  things  not  immediately  in  view  :  from 
fenfations  now  excited  in  us,  we  infer  the  exiftence 
of  things  without  us,  as  the  Caufes  of  thefe  fenfa- 
tions :  and  from  the  exiftence  of  thefe  things,  wc 
argue  other  things,  which  they  depend  on,  as  efFeQs 
on  Caufes.  We  infer  the  paft  exiftence  of  our- 
felves,  or  any  thing  elfe,  by  memory  ;  only  as  we 
argue,  that  the  ideas,  which  are  now  in  our  minds, 
are  the  confequences  of  paft  ideas  and  fcnfations.--r- 
We  immediately  perceive  nothing  elfe  but  the  ideas 
which  are  this  moment  extant  in  our  minds.  We 
perceive  or  know  other  things  only  by  mea?is  of  thefe, 
as  neceflarily  conne6ied  with  others,  and  dependent 
on  them.  But  if  things  njay  be  without  Caufes,  all 
this  neceffary  connexion  and  dependence  is  diflblv- 
ed,  and  fo  all  means  of  our  knowledge  is  gone.  If 
there  be  no  abfurdity  or  difficulty  in  fuppofing  one 
thing  to  ftart  out  of  non-exiftence,  into  being,  of 
itfelf  without  a  Caufe ;  then  there  is  no  abfurdity 
or  difficulty  in  fuppofing  the  fame  of  millions  of 
millions.  For  nothing,  or  no  difficulty  multiplied, 
ftill  is  nothing,  or  no  difficulty  :  nothing  multipli- 
ed by  nothing,  don't  increafe  the  fum. 

And  indeed,  according  to  the  hypothefis  I  am  op- 
pofing,  of  the  a6ls  of  the  Will  coming  to  pafs  with- 
out a  Caufe,  it  is  the  cafe  in  fad,  that  millions  of 
millions  of  Events  are  continually  coming  into  ex- 
iftence contingently,  without  any  Caufe  or  reafon 
why  they  do  fo,  all  over  the  world,  every  day  and 
hour,  through  all  ages.  So  it  is  in  a  conftant  fuc- 
ceffion,  in  every  moral  agent.  This  contingency, 
this  efficient  nothing,  this  efFedual  No-Caufe,  is  al- 
ways ready  at  hand,  to  produce  this  fort  of  cfFefts, 


6o  No  Event  without  a  Caufe,         Part  II. 

as  long  as  the  agent  exifts,  and  as  often  as  he  has 
occafion. 

If  it  were  fo,  that  things  only  of  one  kind,  viz, 
a6ls  of  the  Will,  fcemed  to  come  to  pafs  of  them- 
felves  ;  but  thofe  of  this  fort  in  general  came  into 
being  thus  ;  and  it  were  an  event  that  was  continu- 
al, and  that  happened  in  a  courfe,  wherever  "were 
capable  iubjeds  of  fuch  events  ;  this  very  thing 
would  demonftrate  that  there  was  fome  Caufe  of 
them,  which  made  fuch  a  difference  between  this  E- 
vent  and  others,  and  that  they  did  not  really  happen 
contingently.  For  contingence  is  blind,  and  does 
not  pick  and  choofe  for  a  particular  fort  of  Events. 
Nothing  has  no  choice.  This  No- Caufe,  which 
caufes  no  exiflence,  cannot  Caufe  the  exiftence  which 
comes  to  pafs,  to  be  of  one  particular  fort  only,  dif- 
tinguiihed  from  all  others.  Thus,  that  only  one  fort 
of  matter  drops  out  of  the  heavens,  even  water,  and 
that  this  comes  fo  often,  fo  conftantly  and  plentiful- 
ly, all  over  the  world,  in  all  ages,  fhows  that  their 
is  fome  Caufe  or  reafon  of  the  falling  of  water  out 
of  the  heavens ;  and  that  fomething  belides  mere 
contingence  has  a  hand  in  the  matter. 

If  we  fhould  fuppofe  non-entity  to  be  about  to 
bring  forth;  and  things  were  coming  into  exiftence, 
without  any  Caufe  or  antecedent,  on  which  the  ex- 
iftence, or  kind,  or  manner  of  exiftence  depends; 
or  which  could  at  all  determine  whether  the  things 
Ihould  be  ftones.,  or  ftars,  or  beafts,  or  angels,  or 
human  bodies,  or  fouls,  or  only  fome  new  motion  or 
figure  in  natural  bodies,  or  fome  new  fenfations  in 
animals,  or  new  ideas  in  the  human  underftanding, 
or  new  volitions  in  the  Will;  or  any  thing  elfe  of 
all  ihc  infinite  number  of  pofTibles;  then  certainly 
it  would  not  be  expected,  although  many  miliions 
of  millions  of  things  are  coming  into  exiftence  in 
this  manner,  all  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  that  they 


Se£l.  III.       No  Event  without  a  Caufe,  Gt 

fhould  all  be  only  of  one  particular  kind,  and  that  it 
fhould  be  thus  in  all  ages,  and  that  this  fort  of  cx- 
iftences  fhould  never  fail  to  come  to  pafs  where  there 
is  room  for  them,  or  a  fubjedl;  capable  of  them,  and 
that  conftantly,  whenever  there  is  occafion  for  them. 
If  any  fhould  imagine,  there  is  fomething  in   the 
fort  of  Event  that  renders  it  poflTible  for  it  to  come 
into  exiftence  without  a   Caufe,   and  fhould   fay, 
that  the  free  acls  of  the  Will  arc  exigences  of  an  ex- 
ceeding  diflFerent   nature    from    other   things  ;    by 
reafon  of  which  they  may  come  into  exiflcnce  with- 
out any  previous  ground  or  reafon  of  it,  though 
other  things  cannot ;  if  they  make  this  objeQion 
in  good  earnefl,  it  would  be  an  evidence  of  their 
flrangely  forgetting  themfelves  :  for  they  would  be 
giving  an  account  of  fome  ground  of  the  exiRence 
of  a  thing,  when  at  the  fame  time  they  would  main- 
tain there  is  no  ground  of  its  exiftence.     Therefore 
I  would  obferve,  that  the  particular  nature  of  exift- 
ence, be  it  never  fo  diverfe  from  others,  can  lay  no 
foundation  for  that  thing's  coming  into  exiftence 
without  a  Caufe  ;  becaufe  to  fuppofe  this,   would 
be  to  fuppofe  the  particular  nature  of  exiftence  to 
be  a  thing  prior  to  the  exiftence  ;  and  fo  a  thing 
which  makes  way  for  exiftence,  with  fuch  a  cir- 
cumftancc,  namely,   w^ithout  a  caufe  or  reafon  of 
exiftence.     But  that  which  in  any  refpe6l  makes 
way  for  a  thing's  coming  into  being,   or  for  any 
manner  or  circumftance  of  its  firft  exiftence,  muft 
be  prior  to  the  exiftence.     The  diftinguifhed  nature 
of  the  effect,  which  is   fomething  belonging  to  the 
efiFeft,  cannot  have  influence  backward,  to  a6l  be- 
fore it  is.     The  peculiar  nature  of  that  thing  called 
volition,   can   do  nothing,  can  have   no  influence, 
while  it  is  not.     And  afterwards  it  is  too  late  for  its 
influence  :  for  then  the  thing  has  made  fure  of  ex- 
iftence already,  without  its  help. 


G2  Volition  not  without  a  Caufe,        Part  It, 

So  that  it  is  indeed  as  repugnant  to  reafon,  to 
fuppofe  that  an  ad  of  the  Will  lliould  come  into  ex- 
iftence  without  a  Caufe,  as  to  fuppofe  the  human 
foul,  or  an  angel,  or  the  globe  of  the  earth,  or  the 
whole  univerfe,  iliould  come  into  cxillence  without 
a  Cciufe.  And  if  once  we  allow,  that  fuch  a  fort  of 
<effe6t  as  a  Volition  may  come  to  pafs  without  a 
Caufe,  how  do  we  know  but  that  many  other  forts 
of  eflFe6ts  may  do  fo  too  ?  It  is  not  the  particular 
kind  of  effe6l  that  makes  the  abfurdity  of  fuppofing 
it  has  being  without  a  Caufe,  but  fomething  which 
is  common  to  ail  things  that  ever  begin  to  be,  viz. 
That  they  are  not  felf-exillent,  or  neceflary  in  the 
nature  of  things. 


Section     IV. 

Whether  Volition  can  arife  toithcut  a  Caufe  through  the 
A6livity  of  the  Nature  cj  the  ^ouL 

1  HE  author  of  the  EJfay  on  the  Freedom  of  the  Will 
in  God  and  the  CYeatures,  in  anfwer  to  th^^i  objedion 
again[l,his  doftrine  of  felf-determining  pc^/^r  in  the 
will,  (p.  68,  69)  That  nothing  is,  or  comes  to  pafs, 
zuithout  afujficient  reafon  why  it  is,  and  why  2t  is  in  this 
mianner  rather  than  another,  allows  that  it  is  thus  in 
corporeal  things,  which  are,  properly  and  fhilofophic^ 
ally  fpeaking,  paffive  being  ;  but  denies  that  it  is  thus 
in  fpirits,  which  are  beings  of  an  aEiive  nature,  who 
have  thefpring  of  action  within  themfelves,  and  can  de^ 
termtne  themfelves.  By  which  it  is  plainly  fuppofed, 
that  fuch  an  event  as  an  ad  of  the  W^ll,  may  come 
to  pafs  in  a  fpirit,  without  a  fufficient  reafon  why 
it  come  to  pafs,  or  why  it  is  after  this  manner,  rath- 
er than  another  ;  by  reafon  of  the  aQivity  of  the 


Se6l.  IV.       Volition  not  uiihout  a  Caufc.  63 

nature  of  a  fpirit. — But  certainly  this  author,  in 
this  matter,  mull  be  very  unwary  and  inadvertent. 
For, 

1.  The  objcftion  or  difficulty  propofed  by  this 
author,  feems  to  be  forgotten  in  his  anfwer  or  folu- 
tion.  The  very  difficulty,  as  he  himfelf  propofes  it, 
is  this  :  Kow  an  event  can  come  to  pafs  without  a  JuJ^ 
Jicicnt  reafon  why  it  is,  or  why  it  is  in  this  manner  rather 
than  cnother  f  In  (lead  of  folving  this  difficulty,  or 
anfwering  this  queftion  with  regard  to  Volition,  as 
he  propofes,  he  forgets  himfelf,  and  anfwers  another 
queftion  quite  diverfe,  and  wholly  inconfiftent  with 
this,  viz.  What  is  a  fufficient  reafon  why  it  is,  and 
why  it  is  in  this  manner  rather  than  another  ?  And 
he  affigns  the  a£live  being's  own  determination  as 
the  Caufe,  and  a  Caufe  fufficient  for  the  elfe6t ;  and 
leaves  all  the  difficulty  unrefolved,  and  the  queftion 
unanfwered,  which  yet  returns,  even.  How  the  foul's 
own  determination,  which  he  fpeaks  of,  came  to  ex- 
ift,  and  to  be  what  it  was  without  a  Caufe  ?  The 
a6^ivity  of  the  foul  may  enable  it  to  be  the  Caufe  of 
efFeds  ;  but  it  does  not  at  all  enable  or  help  it  to  be 
the  fubje£l  of  efFe6ls  which  have  no  Caufe  ;  which 
is  the  thing  this  author  fuppofes  concerning  a6ls  of 
the  Will.  Activity  of  nature  will  no  more  enable 
a  being  to  produce  efFeds,  and  determine  the  man- 
ner of  their  exiftence,  within  itfclf,  without  a  Caufe, 
than  out  ^^fitfelf,  in  fome  other  being.  But  if  an 
adive  being  fhould,  through  its  activity,  produce 
and  determme  an  efFe6t  in  ibme  external  objeCl,  how 
abfurd  would  it  be  to  fay,  that  the  elFeCt  was  pro- 
duced without  a  Caufe  ! 

2.  The  queftion  is  not  fo  much.  How  a  fpirit  en- 
dowed with  activity  comes  to  ad,  as  why  it  exerts 
fuch  an  ad,  and  not  another  ;  or  why  it  ads  with 
fuch  a  particular  determination  ?  If  adivity  of  na- 
ture be  the  Caufe  why  a  fpirit  (the  foul  of  man  for 


64  Volition  not  without  a  Caufe,        Part  IL 

inftance)  a6ls,  and  does  not  lie  ftill  ;  yet  that  alone 
is  not  the  Caufe  why  its  adion  is  thus  and  thus  lim- 
ited, diretled  and  determined.  A6live  nature  is  a 
general  thing  ;  it  is  an  ability  or  tendency  of  nature 
to  action,  generally  taken  ;  which  may  be  a  Caufe 
why  the  foul  a6ls  as  occafion  or  reafon  is  given  ;  but 
this  alone  cannot  be  a  fufficient  Caufe  why  the  foul 
exerts  fuch  a  particular  act,  at  fuch  a  time,  rather 
than  others.  *  In  order  to  this,  there  muft  be  fome- 
thing  bchdes  a  general  tendency  to  a6lion  ;  there 
mud  alfo  be  -^  particular  tendency  to  that  individu- 
al adion. — If  it  fhould  be  afked,  why  the  foul  of 
man  ufes  its  activity  in  fuch  a  manner  as  it  does  ; 
and  it  (hould  be  anfwered,  that  the  foul  ufes  its  ac- 
tivity thus,  rather  than  otherwife,  becaufe  it  has  ac- 
tivity ;  would  fuch  an  anfwer  fatisfy  a  ration?!  man  ? 
Would  it  not  rather  be  looked  upon  as  a  very  im- 
pertinent one  ? 

3.  An  active  being  can  bring  no  efFeQs  to  pafs  hy 
his  adtivity,  but  what  are  confequent  upon  his  a6t- 
ing  :  he  produces  nothing  by  his  activity,  any  other 
way  than  by  the  exercife  of  his  a6tivity,  and  fo 
nothing  but  the  fruits  of  its  exercife  :  he  brings 
nothing  to  pafs  by  a  dormant  a6tivity.  But  the  ex- 
ercife of  his  activity  is  adtion  ;  and  fo  his  a6lion,  or 
exercife  of  his  adivity,  muft  be  prior  to  the  efFe6ls 
of  his  adivity.  If  an  adive  being  produces  an  ef- 
fed  in  another  being,  about  which  his  adivity  is 
convcrfant,  the  cfiPed  being  the  fruit  of  his  adivity, 
his  adivity  muft  be  firft  exercifed  or  exerted,  and 
the  effed  of  it  muft  follow.  So  it  muft  be,  with 
equal  reafon,  if  the  adive  being  is  his  own  objed, 
and  his  adivity  converfant  about  himfclf,  to  pro- 
duce and  determine  fome  eifed  in  himfelf ;  ftill  the 
exercife  of  his  activity  muft  go  before  the  efl'ed, 
which  he  brings  to  pafs  and  determines  by  it.  And 
therefore  his  adivity  cannot  be  the  Caufe  of  thede- 


Se6l.  IV.       Volition  not  without  a  Caufe,  6g 

termination  of  the  firfl:  a6tion,  or  excrcife  of  aQivity 
itfelf,  whence  the  effcds  of  aftivity  arife ;  for  that: 
would  imply  a  contradiQion ;  it  would  be  to  fay, 
the  firfl:  exercife  of  a6livity  is  before  the  fird  excr- 
cife of  aClivity,  and  is  the  Caufe  of  it. 

4.  That  the  foul,  thougk  an  aftive  fubflance,  can- 
not c^^t/^r/z^^' ^^^  ^^"  ^^s>  ^"'  ^y  fii^ftaQing;  or  be  a 
determining  Caufe  of  different  ads,  or  any  difFerenC 
efFeds,  fometimes  of  one  kind,  and  fometimes  of  an- 
other, any  other  way  than  in  confequence  of  its  own 
diverfe  ads,  is  manifeft  by  this ;  that  if  fo,  then  the 
fame  Cdu(Q,  the  fume  caufal  Power,  Force  and  Influ- 
ence, withciit  variation  in  any  refpeB,  would  produce 
different  effects  at  different  times.  For  the  fame  fub- 
flance  of  the  foul  before  it  ads,  and  the  fame  adive 
nature  of  the  foul  before  it  is  exerted  [i,  e.  before  in 
the  order  of  nature)  would  be  the  Caufe  of  different  ef- 
feds,  viz.  Different  Volitions  at  different  times. — 
But  the  fubllance  of  the  foul  before  it  ads,  and  its 
adive  nature  before  it  is  exerted,  are  the  fame  with- 
out variation.  For  it  is  fome  ad  that  makes  the 
firll  Variation  in  the  Caufe,  as  to  any  caufal  exertion, 
force  or  influence.  But  if  it  be  fo,  that  the  foul  has 
no  different  caufality,  or  diverfe  caufal  force  or  in- 
fluence, in  producing  thefe  diverfe  effcds;  then  it  is 
evident,  that  the  foui  has  no  influence,  no  hand  in 
the  diverlity  of  the  cffed  ;  and  that  the  difference 
of  the  effe6i  cannot  be  owing  to  any  thing  in  the 
foul;  or,  which  is  the  fame  thing,  the  foul  does  not: 
determine  the  diverfi'^V  of  the  eltcd  ;  which  is  con- 
trary to  the  fuppofuioa. — It  is  true,  the  fubftance 
of  the  foul  before  it  ads,  and  before  there  is  any 
difference  in  that  refped,  may  be  in  a  different  ftate 
and  circumftanccs :  but  thoio  whom  I  oppofe,  will 
not  allow  the  different  circumilances  of  the  foul  to 
be  the  determining  Caufcs  of  the  aCts  of  the  Will ; 
as  being  contrary  to  their  notion  of  felf-determina- 
tioH  and  felf-motion, 

L 


CS  Volition  not  without  a  Caufe,         Part  II. 

5.  Let  us  fuppofe,  as  thefe  divines  do,  that  there 
are  no  atis  of  the  foul,  ftiiftly  fpeaking,  but  free 
Volitions;  then  it  will  follow,  (hat  the  foul  is  an 
adlive  beinix  ir^  nothin^r  further  than  it  is  a  volunta- 
ry  or  eleQive  being  ;  and  whenever  it  produces  ef- 
fects actively,  it  produces  efFe61s  voluntarily  and 
eledlively.  But  to  produce  effects  thus,  is  the  fame 
thing  as  to  produce  effeCtS  in  confequaice  oj^  and  ac- 
cording to,  its  own  choice.  And  if  fo,  then  furely 
the  foul  does  not  by  its  a6livity  produce  all  its  own 
ads  of  Will  or  choice  themfelves  :  for  this,  by 
the  fuppofition,  is  to  produce  all  its  free  a6ls  of 
choice  voluntarily  and  eledively,  or  in  confequence 
of  its  own  free  a6ls  of  choice,  which  brings  the  mat- 
ter diredly  to  the  forementioned  contradidlion,  of  a 
free  a6l  of  choice  before  the  firfl  free  a6t  of  choice* 
According  to  thefe  gentlemen's  own  notion  of  ac- 
tion, if  there^arifes  in  the  mind  a  Volition  without  a 
free  a6l  of  the  Will  or  choice  to  determine  and  pro- 
duce it,  the  mind  is  not  the  a6live  voluntary  Caufe 
of  that  Volition;  becaufe  it  does  not  arife  from,  nor 
is  regulated  by  choice  or  defign.  And  therefore  it  can- 
not be,  that  the  mind  (hould  be  the  a6live,  volunta- 
ry, determining  Caufe  of  the  firft  and  leading  Voli- 
tion that  relates  to  the  affair. — The  mind's  being  a 
defigning  C2iu{Q,  only  enables  it  to  produce  effe£lsin 
confequence  of  its  defign  ;  it  will  not  enable  it  to  be 
the  delignhig  Caufe  of  all  its  own  defigns.  The  mind's 
being  an  elective  Caufe,  will  only  enable  it  to  produce 
effe6ls  in  confequence  of  its  eleBions^  and  according 
to  them  ;  but  cannot  enable  it  to  be  the  ele6tive 
Caufe  of  all  its  own  ele6lions;  becaufe  that  fuppof- 
€s  an  ele6lion  before  the  firft  ele6lion.  So  the  mind's 
beifig  an  aElivc  Caufe  enables  it  to  produce  effeQs  in 
confequence  of  its  own  acls,  but  cannot  enable  it  to 
be  the  determining  Caufe  of  all  its  own  aUs ;  for 
that  is  ft  ill  in  the  lame  manner  a  contradiction ;  as 


Se6k.  V.         Thefe  Evajions  Impertinent.  6y 

it  fuppofes  a  determining  a6l  converfant  about  the 
firft  aft,  and  prior  to  it,  having  a  caufal  influence 
on  its  exigence,  and  manner  of  exiflence. 

I  ran  conceive  of  nothing  elfe  that  can  be  meant 
by  the  foul's  hav^ing  power  to  caufe  and  determine 
its  own  Volitions,  as  a  being  to  whom  God  has  giv- 
en a  power  of  at^ion,  but  this ;  that  God  has  given 
power  to  the  foul,  fometimes  at  leaft,  to  excite  Vo- 
litions at  its  pleafure,  or  according  as  it  choofes. — • 
And  this  certainly  fuppofes,  in  all  fuch  cafes,  a  choice 
preceding  all  Volitions  which  are  thus  caufed,  even 
the  firfl  of  them  ;  which  runs  into  the  forcmen- 
tioned  great  abfurdrty. 

Therefore  the  activity  of  the  nature  of  the  foul 
affords  no  relief  from  the  difficulties  which  the  no- 
tion of  a  felf'determining  power  in  the  Will  is  at- 
tended with,  nor  will  it  help^  in  the  leaft,  its  ab- 
furdities  and  inconfiftencies. 


Section     V. 

Shewing^  that  if  the  things  averted  in  thefe  Evajions 
fhould  hefuppofed  to  be  true,  they  are  altogether  im^ 
pertinent^  and  cannot  help  the  caufe  of  Arminian 
Liberty  ;  and  how  (this  being  the  ft  ate  of  the  cafe)  Ar- 
minian Writers  are  obliged  to  talk  inconfijltntly. 

What  was  laft  obferved  in  the  preceding  feftion 
may  (hew,  not  only  that  the  aftive  nature  of  the 
foul  cannot  be  a  reafon  why  an  aft  of  the  Will  is, 
or  why  it  is  in  this  manner,  rather  than  another; 
but  alfo  that  if  it  could  be  fo,  and  it  could  be  proved 
that  Volitions  are  contingent  events,  in  that  fenfe, 
that  their  being  and  manner  of  being  is  not  fixed  or 
determined  by  any  caufe,  or  any  thing  antecedent  j 


68  Tliefc  Evafions  Impertinent,         Part  II. 

it  would  not  at  all  ferve  the  purpofe  of  Arminians, 
to  eftablifti  the  freedom  of  the  Will,  according  to 
theirnotion  of  its  freedom,  as  confiflingin  the  Will's 
determination  of  itjdf ;  which  fuppofes  every  free  a6l 
of  the  Will  to  be  determined  by  fome  a6l  of  the 
Will  going  before  to  determine  it ;  inafmnch  as  for 
the  Will  to  determine  a  thing,  is  the  fame  as  for  the 
foul  to  determine  a  thing  by  willing  ;  and  there  is 
no  way  that  the  Will  can  determine  an  a£l  of  the 
Will,  than  by  willing  that  a6lof  the  Will  ;  or,  which 
is  the  fame  thing,  choofmg  it.  So  that  here  mull  be 
two  a6ls  of  the  Will  in  the  cafe,  one  going  before 
another,  one  converfant  about  the  other,  and  the 
Matter  the  objeft  of  the  former,  and  chofen  by  the 
former.  If  the  Will  does  not  caufe  and  determine 
the  a61;  by  choice,  it  does  not  caufe  or  determine  it 
at  all;  for  that  which  is  not  determined  by  choice, 
is  not  determined  voluntarily  or  wz/Zzw^.^' ;  and  to 
fay,  that  the  Will  determines  fomething  which  the 
foul  does  not  determine  willingl)',  is  as  much  as  to 
fay,  that  fomething  is  done  by  the  Will,  which  the 
foul  doth  not  with  its  Will. 

So  that  if  Arminian  liberty  of  Will,  confifling  in 
the  Will's  determining  its  own  a6ts,  be  maintained, 
the  old  abfurdity  and  contradiction  mud  he  main- 
tained, that  every  free  at^  of  Will  is  caufed  and  de- 
termined by  a  foregoing  free  a6t  of  Will  ;  which 
doth  not  confift  with  the  free  a6ls  arifmg  without 
;my  caufe,  and  being  fo  contingent,  as  not  to  be  fix- 
ed by  any  thing  foregoing.  So  that  this  evafion 
muft  be  given  up,  as  not  at  all  relieving,  and  as  that 
which,  inftead  of  fupporting  this  fort  of  liberty,  dii^ 
redely  deftroys  it. 

And  if  it  Qiould  be  fuppofed,  that  the  foul  deter- 
mines its  own  a61s  of  W^ill  fome  other  way,  than  by 
a  foregoing  ad  of  Will  ;  ftill  it  will  not  help  the 
caufe  ot  their  liberty  of  Will.     If  it  determines  them 


Se6l.  V.         Tlujc  Evofwns  Impertinene.  69 

hy  an  a6i:  of  the  underftanding,  or  fomp  other  pow- 
er, then  the  Will  does  not  determine  iifclf ;  and  fo  the 
fel/'determining  power  of  the  Will  is  given  up.  And 
what  liberty  is  there  exercifed  according  to  their  own 
opinion  of  liberty,  by  the  foul's  being  determined 
by  fomething  befides  its  own  choice  ?  The  afls  of  the 
Will,  it  is  true,  may  be  dire6i:ed,  and  efFe61ual]y  de- 
termined and  fixed  ;  but  it  is  not  done  by  the  lours 
own  will  and  pleafure  ;  there  is  no  exercile  at  all  of 
choice  or  Will  in  producing  the  elFeft  :  and  if  Will 
and  choice  are  not  exercifed  in  it,  how  is  the  liberty 
of  the  Will  exercifed  in  it  ? 

So  that  let  Arminians  turn  which  way  they  pleafe 
with  their  notion  of  liberty,  confiding  in  the  Will's 
determining  its  own  a6ls,  their  notion  deflroys  itfelf. 
If  they  hold  every  free  a6t  of  Will  to  be  determined 
by  the  foul's  own  free  choice,  or  foregoing  free  a6t  of 
Will ;  foregoing,  either  in  the  order  of  time,  or  na- 
ture ;  it  implies  that  grofs  contradi6lion,  that  the 
firfl  free  a6l  belonging  to  the  affair,  is  determined  by 
a  free  a6l  which  is  before  it.  Or  if  they  fay  that  the 
free  a6ls  of  the  Will  are  determined  by  fome  other 
ati  of  the  foul,  and  not  an  a6l  of  Will  or  choice, 
This  alfo  deftroys  their  notion  of  liberty,  confifting 
in  the  a61s  of  the  Will  being  determined  by  the  Wi^ll 
Itfelf ;  or  if  they  hold  that  the  a6ts  of  the  Will  are 
determined  by  nothing  at  all  that  is  prior  to  them, 
but  that  ihey  are  contingent  in  that  fenfe,  that  they 
are  determined  and  fixed  by  no  caufe  at  all ;  this 
alfo  deftroys  their  notion  of  liberty,  confifting  in  the 
Will's  determining  its  own  ads. 

This  being  the  true  ftate  of  the  Arminian  notion 
of  liberty,  it  hence  comes  to  pafs,  that  the  writers 
that  defend  it  are  forced  into  grofs  inconfiftencies, 
in  what  they  fay  upon  this  fubjett.  To  inftance  in 
Dr.  Whitby  ;  he  in  his  difcourfe  on  the  freedom  of 


yo*  Artninians  talk  inconfiftently.       Part  11. 

the  Will,  *  oppofes  the  opinion  of  the  Calvimjls,  who 
place  man's  liberty  only  in  a  power  of  doing  what  he  will, 
as  that  wherein  they  plainly  agree  with  Mr.  Hobbes. 
And  yet  he  himfelf  mentions  the  very  fame  notion 
of  liberty,  as  the  di6late  of  the  fenfe  and  common  rea^ 
Jon  of  7}iankind^  and  a  rule  laid  dozon  by  the  light  o/na- 
ture^  viz.  that  liberty  is  a  power  of  atling  from  our* 
Jelves,  or  DOING  WHAT  WE  WILLf  This  is  in- 
deed, as  he  fays,  a  thing  agreeable  to  the  fenfe  and 
common  reafon  of  mankind  ;  and  therefore  it  is  not  fo 
much  to  be  wondered  at,  that  he  unawares  acknowl- 
edges it  againft  himfelf ;  for  if  liberty  does^  not  con- 
lift  in  this,  what  elfe  can  be  devifed  that  it  fhould 
confift  in  ?  If  it  be  faid,  as  Dr.  Whitby  elfwhere  in- 
fifts,  that  it  does  not  only  confift  in  liberty  of  doing 
what  we  will,  but  alfo  a  liberty  of  willing  without 
neceffity  ;  ftill  the  queftion  returns,  what  does  that 
liberty  of  willing  without  neceffity  conlift  in,  but  in 
a  power  of  willing  as  we  pleafe^  without  being  im- 
peded by  a  contrary  necelfity  ?  Or  in  other  words,  a 
liberty  for  the  foul  in  its  willing  to  a6l  according  to  its 
own  choice  ?  Yea,  this  very  thing  the  fame  author 
feems  to  allow,  and  fuppole  again  and  again,  in  the 
ufe  he  makes  of  fayings  of  the  Fathers,  whom  he 
quotes  as  his  vouchers.  Thus  he  cites  the  words  of 
Origen,  which  he  produces  as  a  teftimony  on  his  fide ; 
X  The  foul  aas  by  HER  OWN  CHOICE,  and  it  is  free 
for  her  to  incline  to  whatever  part  SHE  WILL,  And 
thofe  words  of  Juftm  Martyr;  \  The  doBrine  of  the 
Chriflians  is  this,  that  nothing  is  done  orfvffcred  accord* 
ing  to  fate,  but  that  every  man  doth  ^^ood  or  evil  AC-^ 
CORDING  TO  HIS  OWN  FREE  CHOICE,  And 
from  Eufebius,  thefe  words,  ||  If  fate  be  efiablif/ied, 

*  In  his  Book  on  the  five  Points,  Second  Edit.  p.  3,50,  351, 
Q52.  +  Ibid.  p.  325,  326.  i  Ibid.  p.  342.  ^  Ibid.  p.  360, 
(Ibid.  p.  363. 


Se£l.  V.      Arminians  ^^/y^  inconfiftently.  j^l 

fhilofophy  and  piety  arc  overthrown.  All  iJiefe  things  de^ 
pending  upon  the  ncctjjity  introduced  by  thejlars,  and  not 
upon  meditation  and  exercife  PROCEEDING  FROM 
OUR  OWN  FREE  CHOICE  And  again,  the  words 
of  Maccarius  ;  *  God,  to  preferve  the  liberty  of  man's 
Willy  fujfered  their  bodies  to  die,  that  it  might  be  IN 
THEIR  CHOICE  to  turn  to  good  or  evil.— They 
who  are  aBed  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  are  not  held  under  any 
necejfily,  but  have  liberty  to  turn  themfelveSy  and  DO 
WHAT  THEY  WILL  in  this  life. 

Thus,  the  do6lor  iii  eixe£l  comes  into  that  very 
notion  of  liberty,  which  the  Crilviniils  have  ;  which 
he  at  the  (ame  time  condemns,  as  agreeing  with  the 
opinion  of  Mr.  Hobbes,  namely,  the  foul's  ac'ling  by 
its  own  choiccy  mens  doing  good  or  evil  according  to  their 
own  free  choice^  their  being  in  that  exercife  xohich  prO' 
ceeds  from  their  own  free  choice,  having  it  in  their  choice 
to  turn  to  good  or  evil,  and  doing  what  they  wilL  So 
that  if  men  exercife  this  liberty  in  the  a6ls  of  the 
Will  themfelves,  it  mud  be  in  exerting  a6ls  of 
Will  as  they  Will,  or  according  to  their  oron  free  choice  ; 
or  exerting  a6>s  of  Will  that  proceed  f rem  their  choice. 
And  if  it  be  fo,  then  let  every  one  judge  whether  this 
does  not  fuppofe  a  free  choice  going  before  the  free 
a6l  of  Will,  or  whether  an  a6l  of  choice  does  not  go 
before  that  a£t  of  the  Will  which  proceeds  from  iL 
And  if  it  be  thus  with  all  free  a£ls  of  the  Will,  then 
let^every  one  judge,  whether  it  v/ill  not  follow  that 
there  is  a  free  choice  or  Will  going  before  the  fir  ft 
free  a6l  of  the  Will  exerted  in  the  cafe.  And  then 
let  every  one  judge,  whether  this  be  not  a  contradic- 
tion. And  finally,  let  every  one  judge  whether  in 
the  fcheme  of  thei'e  writers  there  be  any  poffibility 
of  avoiding  thefe  abfurdities. 

*  In  his  Book  on  the  five  Points,  Second  Edlr.  p.  369,  370. 


72  Arminians  i^/i  inconfiftently.       Part  II. 

If  liberty  confifts,  as  Dr.  Whitby  himfelf  fays,  in 
a  man's  doing  what  he  will ;  and  a  man  exercifes  this 
liberty,  not  only  in  external  a6lions,  but  in  the  a6ls 
of  the  Will  themfelves;  then  fo  far  as  liberty  is  ex- 
ercifed  in  the  latter,  it  confifh  in  willing  what  he  wills: 
and  if  any  fay  fo,  one  of  thefe  two  things  muft  be 
meant, either,  i.That  a  man  has  power  to  Will,  as  he 
does  Will;  becaufe  what  he  Wills,  he  Wills;  and 
therefore  has  power  to  Will  what  he  has  power  to 
W^iii.  If  this  be  their  meaning,  then  all  this  mighty 
controverfy  about  freedom  of  the  Will  and  felf-de- 
termining  power,  cemes  wholly  to  nothing;  all  that 
is  contended  for  being  no  more  than  this,  that  the 
mind  of  man  does  what  it  does,  and  is  the  fubje6l  of 
what  it  is  the  fubje6l  of,  or  that  what  is,  is ;  where- 
in none  has  any  controverfy  with  them.  Or,  g^. 
The  meaning  muft  be,  that  a  man  has  power  to  Will 
as  he  pleafes  or  choofes  to  Will :  that  is,  he  has 
power  by  one  aft  of  choice,  to  choofe  another  ;  by 
an  antecedent  aft  of  Will  to  choofe  a  confequent 
aft ;  and  therein  to  execute  his  own  choice.  And 
if  this  be  their  meaning,  it  is  nothing  but  ihuffling 
-with  thole  they  difpute  with,  and  baffling  their  own 
reafon.  For  flill  the  queftion  returns,  wherein  lies 
man's  liberty  in  that  antecedent  aft  of  Will  which 
chofe  the  confequent  aft.  The  anfwer,  according  to 
the  fame  principles,  muft  be,  that  his  liberty  in  this 
alfo  lies  in  his  willing  as  he  would,  or  as  he  chofe, 
or  agrtcable  to  another  aft  of  choice  preceding  that. 
And  fo  the  queftion  returns  in  infinitum  and  the  like 
anfwer  muft  be  made  in  injinitum  :  in  order  to  fup- 
port  their  opinion,  there  muft  be  no  beginning,  but 
free  a6ls  of  Will  muft  have  been  chofen  by  forego- 
ing free  afts  of  Will  in  the  foul  of  every  man,  with- 
out beginning;  and  fo  before  he  had  a  being,  from 
all  eternity. 


Se6l.  VI.      O/choofmg  in  Things  inJifFerent.  73 

Section     VI. 

Concerning  the  Will's  determining  in  Things  which  are 
perjt5lly  indifferent  in  the  View  of  the  Mind, 

A  GREAT  argument  for  felf- determining  power,  is 
the  fuppofed  experience  we  univerlally  have  of  an 
ability  to  determine  our  Wilis,  in  cafes  wherein  no 
prevailing  motive  is  prefented  :  the  Will  (as  is  fup- 
pofed) has  its  choice  to  make  between  two  or  more 
things,  that  are  perfe6lly  equal  in  the  view  of  the 
mind  ;  and  the  W^ill  is  apparently  altogether  indif- 
ferent ;  and  yet  we  find  no  d\^icn\ty  in  coming  to  a 
choice  ;  the  Will  can  inllantly  determine  itfelf  to 
one,  by  a  fovereign  power  which  it  has  over  itfelf, 
without  being  moved  hy  any  preponderating  induce- 
ment. 

Thus  the  fors- mentioned  author  of  an  EJfay  on  the 
Freedom  of  the  Will,  Sec.  p.  25,  26,  27,  fuppofes, 
*'  That  there  are  many  inftances,  wherein  the  Will  is 
*'  determined  neither  by  prefent  uneafmefs,  nor  hy 
**  the  greateft  apparent  good,  nor  by  the  lad  dic- 
**  tate  of  the  underf^mding,  nor  by  any  thing 
''  eife,  but  merely  by  itfelf  as  a  fovereign,  feh^-detcr- 
**  mining  power  of  the  foul ;  and  that  the  foul  does 
''  not  will  this  or  that  a6lion,  in  fotne  cafes,  hy  any 
**  other  influence  but  becaufe  it  will.  Thus  (fays 
*'  he)  I  can  turn  my  face  to  the  South,  or  the  North  ; 
*•  I  can  point  with  vny  finger  upward,  or  downward. 
'*  And  thus,  in  fome  cafes,  the  V/iil  determines  itfelf 
*'  in  a  very  fovereign  manner,  becaufe  it  will,  with- 
**  out  a  reafon  borrowed  from  the  und'2i{tandin2:  : 
*'  and  hereby  it  difcovers  its  own  perfc6l  power  of 
"  choice,  rifing  from  within  itfelf,  and  free  from  all 
**  influence  or  reftraint  of  any  kind."  And  in  pages 
66,  70,  and  73,  74,  this  author  very  exprefsly  fup- 
pofes the    Will  in  many  cafes  to  be  determined  by 

M 


74  Of  chcofuig  in  Things  indifferent.     Part  II, 

no  motive  at  all,   and  ails  altogether  ivithrjut  motive,  or 
ground  of  preference. — Here  1  would  obferve, 

1.  The  very  fuppofition  which  is  here  made,  dire£l- 
]y  contradids  and  overthrows  itfelf.  For  the  thing 
luppofed,  wherein  this  grand  argument  confifts,  is, 
that  among  teveral  things  the  Will  aftually  choofes 
one  before  another,  at  the  fame  that  it  is  perfeQly 
indifferent ;  which  is  the  very  fame  thing  as  to  fay, 
the  mind  has  a  preference,  at  the  fame  time  that  it 
has  no  preference.  What  is  meant  cannot  be,  that 
the  mind  is  indifferent  before  it  comes  to  have  a 
choice,  or  until  it  has  a  preference  ;  or,  which  is  the 
fame  thing,  that  the  mind  is  indifferent  until  it  comes 
to  be  not  indifferent  :  For  certainly  this  author  did 
not  fuppofe  he  had  a  controverfy  with  any  perfon 
in  fuppofing  this.  And  then  it  is  nothing  to  his 
purpofe,  that  the  mind  which  choofes,  was  indiffer- 
ent once  ;  unlefs  it  choofes  remaining  indifferent  ; 
for  otherwife,  it  does  not  choofe  at  all  in  that  cafe  of 
indifference,  concerning  which  is  all  the  queftion. 
Befides,  it  appears  in  fa6i:,  that  the  thing  which  this 
author  fuppofes,  is  not  that  the  Will  choofes  one 
thing  before  another,  conceniing  which  it  is  indiffer- 
ent before  it  choofes  ;  but  alfo  is  indifferent  uhen  it 
choofes ;  and  that  its  being  otherwife  than  indifferent 
is  not  until  afterwards,  in  confequence  of  its  choice  ; 
that  the  chofen  thing's  appearing  preferable  and 
more  agreeable  than  another,  arifes  from  its  choice 
already  made.  His  words  are,  (p.  30,)  *'  Where 
**  the  obje6ls  which  are  propofed,  appear  equally  fit 
**  or  good,  the  Will  is  left  without  a  guide  or  direc- 
"  tor  ;  and  therefore  muff  take  its  own  choice  by 
**  its  own  determination  ;  it  being  properly  a  felf- 
**  determining  power.  And  in  fuch  cafes  the  Will 
**  does  as  it  were  make  a  good  to  itfelf  by  its  own 
•*  choice,  i.  e.  creates  its  own  pleafure  or  delight  in 
**  this  felt-chofen  good.     Even  as  a  man  by  fcizing 


Se6l.  VI.     Ofchcofingin  Things  indifferent.  5-5 

**  upon  a  fpot  of  unoccupied  land,  in  an  uninhabit- 
*'  ed  country,  makes  it  his  own  polTeflTion  and  prop- 
**  erty,  and  as  fuch  rejoices  in  it.  Where  things 
**  were  indifferent  before,  the  Will  finds  nothing  to 
**  make  them  more  agreeable,  confidered  merely  m 
**  themfelves  ;  but  the  pleafure  it  feels  ARISING 
•'  FROM  ITS  OWN  CHOICE,  and  its  perfever- 
**  ance  therein.  We  love  many  things  we  have 
'^  chofen,  AND  PURELY  BECAUSE  WE  CHOSE 
«*  THEM." 

This  is  as  much  as  to  fay,  that  we  firfl  begin  to 
prefer  many  things,  now  ceafing  any  longer  to  be 
indifferent  with  re(pe6l  to  them,  purely  bccaufe  we 
have  preferred  and  chofen  them  before.  Thefe 
things  mufl  needs  be  fpoken  inconfiderately  by  this 
author.  Choice  or  preference  cannot  be  before  it- 
felf  in  the  fame  inftance,  either  in  the  order  of  time 
or  nature  :  It  cannot  be  the  foundation  of  itfelf,  or 
the  fruit  or  confequence  of  itfelf.  The  very  a6l  of 
choofing  one  thing  rather  than  another^  is  preferring 
that  thing,  and  that  is  fetting  a  higher  value  on  that 
thing.  But  that  the  mind  iets  an  higher  value  on 
one  thing  than  another,  is  not,  in  the  firfl  place,  the 
fruit  of  its  fetting  a  higher  value  on  that  thing. 

This  author  fays,  p.  36,  **  The  Will  may  be  per- 
''feftly  indifferent,  and  yet  the  Will  may  determine 
*'  itfelf  to  choofe  one  or  the  other/'  And  again,  in 
the  fame  page,  *•  I  am  entirely  indifferent  to  either  ; 
*'  and  yet  my  Will  may  determine  itfelf  to  choofe." 
And  again,  **  Which  I  (liall  choofe  mufl  be  deter- 
*'  mined  by  the  mere  a6l  of  my  Will."  If  the  choice 
is  determined, by  a  mere  a6l  of  Will,  then  the  choice 
is  determined  by  a  mere  a6l  of  choice.  And  con- 
cerning this  matter,  viz.  That  the  a6l  of  the  Will  it- 
felf is  determined  by  an  a6l  of  choice,  this  writer  is 
OLprefs,  in  page  72.  Speaking  of  the  cafe,  where 
there  is  no  fuperior  fitnefs  in  objefts  prefented,  he 


yS  0/ the  Will's  determining  Part  II. 

has  thefc  v/ords :  "  Thtre  it  mud  a6l  by  its  own 
*•■  CHOICE,  and  determine  itfelf  as  it  PLEASES/' 
Where  it  is  fuppofed  that  the  very  dcterinination, 
which  is  the  ground  and  fpring  of  the  Will's  a6t,  is 
an  a6i:  of  choice  and  plea  fur  e,  wherein  one  a  61  is  more 
agreeable,  and  the  mind  better  pleafed  in  it  than 
another  ;  and  this  preference  and  Japerior  pkafednefs 
is  the  ground  of  all  it  does  in  the  cafe.  And  if  fo, 
the  mind  is  not  indifferent  when  it  determines  itfelf, 
but  had  rather  do  one  thing  than  another,  had  rather 
determine  itfelf  one  way  than  another.  And  there- 
fore the  IVill  does  not  aft  at  all  in  indifference  ;  not 
fo  much  as  in  the  hi  ft  ftep  it  takes,  or  the  fir  ft  rife 
and  beginning  of  its  aftrng.  If  it  be  poffible  for  the 
underftanding  to  act  in  indifference,  yet  to  be  fure 
the  Will  never  does  ;  becaufe  the  Will's  beginning 
to  a6i  is  the  very  fame  thing  as  its  beginning  to 
chool'e  or  prefer.  And  if  in  the  very  firft  aft  of  the 
Will,  the  mind  prefers  fomething,  then  the  idea  of 
that  thing  preferred,  does  at  that  time  preponderate, 
or  prevail  in  the  mind  :  or,  which  is  the  fame  thing, 
the  idea  of  it  has  a  prevailing  influence  on  the  Will. 
"So  that  this  wholly  dellroys  the  thing  fuppofed,  viz. 
That  the  mind  can  by  a  fovereign  power  .choofe  one 
of  two  or  more  things,  which  in  the  view  of  the 
mind  are,  in  every  refpeft,  peifeftly  equal,  one  of 
which  does  not  at  ail  preponderate,  nor  has  any 
prevailing  influence  on  the  mind  above  another. 

So  that  this  author,  in  his  grand  argument  for  the 
ability  of  the  Will  to  choofe  one  of  two  or  more 
things,  concerning  which  it  is  perfeftly  indifferent^^ 
does  at  the  fame  time,  in  eft'cdi,  deny  the  thing  he 
fuppofes,  and  allov/s  and  afierts  the  point  he  endea- 
vours to  overthrow  ;  even  that  the  Will,  in  clioof- 
ing,  is  iubj^.ft  to  no  prevailing  influence  of  the  idea, 
or  view  cf  the  thing  chofen.  And  indeed  it  is  im- 
poiBble  to  offer  this  argument  without  ovenhrowing 


Seft.  VI.  in  Things  indifferent.  77 

it;  the  thing  fuppofed  in  it  being  inconfiHent  with 
itlelf,  and  that  which  denies  itfelf.  To  fuppole  the 
Will  to  aft  at  all  in  a  (late  of  perfect  indifference, 
either  to  determine  itfelf,  or  to  do  any  thing  elfe,  is 
to  affert  that  the  mind  choofes  without  choofi ng. 
To  fay  that  when  it  is  indifferent,  it  can  do  as  it 
pleafes,  is  to  fay  rJiat  it  can  follow  its  pleafure  when 
it  has  no  pleafure  to  follow.  And  therefore  if  there 
be  any  difficulty  in  the  inftances  of  two  cakes,  two 
eggs,  Sec.  which  are  exaftly  alike,  one  as  good  as 
another  ;  concerning  which  this  author  luppofes 
the  mind  in  fa6l  has  a  choice,  and  fo  in  effctl  fup-^ 
pofcs  that  it  has  a  preference  ;  it  as  much  concerned 
himfelf  to  folvc  the  difficulty,  as  it  does  thofe  whom 
he  oppofes.  For  if  thefe  inftances  prove  any  thing 
to  his  purpofe,  they  prove  that  a  man  choofes  with- 
out choice.  And  yet  this  is  not  to  his  purpofe  ; 
becaufe  if  this  is  what  he  afferts,  his  own  words  are 
as  much  againft  him,  and  do  as  much  contradidfc 
him,  as  the  words  of  thofe  he  difputes  againft  can  do. 

2.  There  is  no  great  difficulty  in  fiiewing.  in  fuch 
inftances  as  are  aliedged,  not  only  that  it  mujl  7ieeds 
he  fo,  that  the  mind  muft  be  influenced  in  its  choice, 
by  fomething  that  has  a  preponderating  influence 
upon  it,  but  alfo  how  it  is  fo.  A  little  attention  to 
our  own  experience,  and  a  diftinft  confideration  of 
the  afts  of  our  own  minds,  in  fuch  cafes,  will  be 
fufficient  to  clear  up  the  matter. 

Thus,  fuppcfing  I  have  a  chefs. board  before  me; 
and  becaufe  1  am  required  by  a  fuperior,  or  defired 
by  a  friend,  or  to  make  fome  experiment  concerning 
my  own  ability  and  liberty,  or  on  fome  other  con- 
fideration, 1  am  determined  "to  touch  fome  one  of 
the  fpots  or  fquares  on  the  board  v;ith  my  finger; 
not  being  limited  or  direfted  in  the  firft  propofal,  or 
my  own  firft  purpofe,  which  is  general,  to  any  one 
in  particular ;  and  thejebcing  nothing  in  the  fquares, 


yfil  OJ  the  Wills  determining  Part  II. 

in  themfelves  confidered,  that  recommends  any  one 
of  all  the  fixty-four,  more  than  another :  in  this  cafe, 
my  mind  determines  to  give  itfelf  up  to  what  is  vul- 
garly called  accident*  by  determining  to  touch  that 
fquare  which  happens  to  be  mofl  in  view,  which  my 
eye  is   efpecially    upon    at   that  moment,  or  which 
happens  to  be  then  mofl  in  my  miud,  or  which  I  (hall 
be  direded  to  by  fome  other  fuch-like  accident. — 
Here  are  feveral  fleps  of  the  mind's  proceeding  (tho' 
all   may  be  done  as   it  were  in  a  moment)  the  Jirjl 
ftep  is  its  ^dw^r^/ determination  that  it  will  touch  one 
of  the  fquares.     The  next  flep  is  another  ^^Tier^/ de- 
termination to  give   itfelf  up    to   accident,  in  fome 
certain  way  ;  as  to  touch  that  w^hich  (hall  be  mod  in 
the  eye  or  mind  at  that  time,  or  to  fome  other  fuch- 
iike  accident.     The  third  and  la(l  flep  is  a  particular 
determination  to  touch   a  certain   individual   fpot, 
even  that  fquare,  which,  by  that  fort  of  accident  the 
mind  has    pitched  upon,  has  aQually  offered  itfelf 
beyond  others.     Now  it  is  apparent  that  in  none  of 
thefe  feveral  fleps  does  the  mind  proceed  in  abfolute 
indifference,  but  in  each  of  them  is  influenced  by  a 
preponderating  inducement.     So  it  is   in   the  JirJ^ 
flep;  the  mind's  general  determination  to  touch  one 
of  the  fixty-four  fpots  :  the  mind   is  not  obfolutely 
indifferent  whether  it  does  fo  or  no ;  it  is  induced  to 
it,   for   the  fake  of  making  fome  experiment,  or   by 
the  defire  of  a    friend,   or   fome   other  motive  that 
prevails.     So  it  is  in  the  fccond  flep,  the  mind's  de- 
termining to  give  itfelf  up  to  accident,  by  touching 
th^t  which  fhall   be  moll  in  the    eye,  or  the  idea  of 

*  I  have  elfewhere  obferved  what  that  is  wl»lch  is  vulgarly 
called  accidefit ;  that  it  is  nothing  akin  to  the  Ar??i2?iian  meta- 
phyfical  notion  of  contingence,  fomething  not  ccnne^led  with 
any  thing  foregoing ;  but  that  it  is  fomething  that  comes  to 
pafs  in  the  courle  ot  things,  in  fome  affair  that  men  arc  con- 
cerned in,  untorefeen,  and  not  owing  to  their  dcfign. 


Setl,  VI.  in  Things  indifif-erent.  ng 

which  (hall  be  mofl  prevalent  in  the  mind,  Sec,  The 
mind  is  not  abfolutely  indifferent  whether  it  proceeds 
by  this  rule  or  no ;  but  choofes  it  becaufe  it  appears 
at  that  time  a  convenient  and  requifite  expedient  in 
order  to  fulfil  the  general  purpofe  aforefaid.  And 
fo  it  is  in  the  third  and  laft  ftep,  it  is  determining  to 
touch  that  individual  fpot  which  a61:ually  does  pre- 
vail in  the  mind's  view.  The  mind  is  not  indiffer- 
ent concerning  this ;  but  is  influenced  by  a  prevail- 
ing inducement  and  reafon ;  which  is,  that  this  is  a 
profecution  of  the  preceding  determination,  which 
appeared  requifite,  and  was  fixed  before  in  the  fecond 
Hep. 

Accident  will  ever  ferve  a  man,  without  hindering 
him  a  moment,  in  fuch  a  cafe.  It  will  always  be  fo 
among  a  number  of  obje6ls  in  view,  one  will  prevail 
in  the  eye,  or  in  idea  beyond  others.  When  we 
have  our  eyes  open  in  the  clear  fun- (bine,  many  ob- 
je6ls  ftrike  the  eye  at  once,  and  innumerable  images 
may  be  at  once  painted  in  it  by  the  rays  of  light ; 
but  the  attention  of  the  mind  is  not  equal  to  feveral 
of  them  at  once;  or  if  it  be,  it  does  not  continue  fo 
for  any  time.  And  fo  it  is  with  refpe6l  to  the  ideas 
of  the  mind  in  general :  feveral  ideas  are  not  in  e- 
qual  flrength  in  the  mind's  view  and  notice  at  once; 
or  at  leaft,  does  not  remain  fo  for  any  fenlible  con- 
tinuance. There  is  nothing  in  the  world  more  con- 
flantly  varying,  than  the  ideas  of  the  mind:  they  do 
not  remain  precifely  in  the  fame  flate  for  the  lead 
perceivable  fpace  of  time  :  as  is  evident  by  this, 
that  all  perceivable  time  is  judged  and  perceived 
by  the  mind  only  by  the  fucceflion  or  the  fucceflive 
changes  of  its  own  ideas  :  Therefore  while  the  views 
or  perceptions  of  the  mind  remain  precifely  in  the 
fame  (late,  there  is  no  perceivable  fpace  or  length  of 
time,  becaufe  no  fenfible  fucceflion  at  all. 

As  the  a6ls  of  the  Will,  in  each  ftep  of  the  fore 


8o  Of  the  Will's  determining,  ^c.       Part  II. 

mentioned  procedure,  does  not  come  to  pafs  with- 
out a  particular  caufe,  every  a6t  is  owing  to  a  pre- 
vailing inducement :  fo  the  accident,  as  I  have  called 
it,  or  that  which  happens  in  the  unfearchablecourfe 
of  things,  to  which  the  mind  yields  itfelf,  and  hy 
which  it  is  guided,  is  not  any  thing  that  comes  to 
pafs  without  a  caufe;  and  the  n^ind  in  determining 
to  be  guided  by  it,  is  not  determined  by  fomething 
that  has  no  caufe;  any  more  than  if  it  determined 
to  be  guided  by  a  lot,  or  the  calling  of  a  die.  For 
though  the  die's  falling  in  fuch  a  manner  be  acci- 
dental to  him  that  cafts  it,  yet  none  will  fuppofe 
that  there  is  no  caufe  why  it  fails  as  it  does.  The 
involuntary  changes  in  the  fucceOion  of  our  ideas, 
though  the  caufes  may  not  be  obferved,  have  as 
much  a  caufe,  as  the  changeable  motions  of  the 
motes  that  float  in  the  air,  or  the  continual  infinite- 
ly various,  fucctlTive  changes  of  the  unevennefles  on 
the  furface  of  the  water. 

There  are  two  things  efpecially,  which  are  proba- 
bly the  occafions  of  confufion  in  the  minds  of  them 
who  inhfl  upon  it,  that  the  Will  a6ts  in  a  proper 
indifference,  and  without  being  moved  by  any  in- 
ducement, in  its  determination  in  fuch  cafes  as  have 
been  mentioned. 

1.  They  feem  to  miflake  the  point  in  queftion,  or 
at  lead  not  to  keep  it  diftinftly  in  view.  The  quef- 
tion they  difpute  about,  is,  vVhether  the  mind  be  in- 
different about  the  objtBs  prefented,  one  of  which  is 
to  be  taken,  touched,  pointed  to,  Szc.  as  two  Qggs, 
two  cakes,  which  appear  equally  good.  Whereas 
the  queflion  to  be  confidered,  is,  W^hether  the  per- 
fon  be  ind'/^erent  with  refpecl  to  his  own  aBions ; 
whether  ho  does  not,  on  fome  coniiJeration  or  other, 
prefer  one  a6l  with  refpedl  to  thefe  objects  before 
another.  The  mind  in  its  determination  and  choice, 
in  thefe  cafes,  is  not  mofl  imiiiediately  and  diredly 


Seft.  VI.  Ofchoofmg  in  Things  indifFerent.  8l 

converlant  about  the  ohjeSls  prcfcnted  ;  but  the  aBs  to 
be  done  concerning  thcle  objeds.  The  objeds  may- 
appear  equal,  and  the  mind  may  never  properly 
make  any  choice  between  them  :  but  the  next  a6t 
of  the  Will  being  about  the  exiernal  a6lions  to  be 
performed,  taking,  touching,  &c.  thefe  may  not  ap- 
pear equal,  and  one  adiion  may  properly  be  chofeu 
before  another.  In  each  (lep  of  the  mind's  progrels, 
the  determination  is  not  about  the  objedls,  unlefs 
indiredly  and  improperly,  but  about  the  a6lions, 
which  it  choofes  for  other  reafons  than  any  prefer- 
ence of  the  objeds,  and  for  reafons  not  taken  at  all 
from  the  objects. 

There  is  no  ncceflity  of  fuppofing,  that  the  mind 
does  ever  at  ail  properly  choofe  one  of  the  objefts 
before  another  ;  either  before  it  has  taken,  or  after- 
wards. Indeed  the  man  choofes  to  take  or  totich  one 
rather  than  another ;  but  not  becaufe  it  choofes  the 
thing  taken,  or  touched  ;  but  from  foreign  confidera- 
tions.  The  cafe  may  be  fo,  th^  t  of  two  things  of- 
fered, a  man  may,  for  certain  reafons,  choofe  and 
prefer  the  taking  of  that  which  he  undervalues,  and 
choofe  to  neglect  to  take  that  which  his  mind  pre^ 
Jers,  In  fuch  a  cafe,  choofing  the  thing  taken,  and 
choofing  to  take,  are  diverfe  :  and  fo  they  are  in  a 
cafe  where  the  things  prefented  are  equal  in  the 
mind's  eRcem,  and  neither  of  them  preferred.  All 
that  faO;  and  experience  makes  evident,  is,  that  (he 
mind  choofes  one  a6lion  rather  than  another.  And 
therefore  the  arguments  which  they  bring,  in  order 
to  be  to  their  purpofe,  ought  to  be  to  prove  that  the 
mind  choofes  the  aQion  in  perfe6l;  indifference,  with 
refpeSl  to  that  aclion  ;  and  not  to  prove  that  the 
mind  choofes  the  adion  in  perfect  indifference  with 
refpedl  to  the  ohje6l  ;  which  is  very  podible,  and  yet 
the  Will  not  aft  at  all  without  prevalent  inducement 
and  proper  prepcnderation. 

N 


9t  Of  Liberty  of  IndifFerence,         Part  II. 

2.  Another  reafon  of  confufion  and  difTicuUy  in 
this  matter,  feems  to  be,  not  diftinguilhing  between 
a  general  indifference,  or  an  indifference  with  re- 
fpe6l  to  whit  is  to  be  done  in  a  more  diftant  and 
genera!  view  of  it,  and  a  particular  indifference,  or 
an  indifference  with  refpe6l  to  the  next  immediate 
a£l,  viewed  with  its  particular  and  prefent  circum- 
fiances.  A  man  may  be  perfectly  indifferent  with 
refpetl  to  his  own  aHions^  in  the  former  refpeft  ; 
and  yet  not  in  the  latter.  Thus,  in  the  foregoing 
inflance  of  touching  one  of  the  fqu«res  of  a  chefs- 
board  ;  when  it  is  firfl;  propofed  that  I  fhould  touch 
one  of  them,  I  may  be  perfeQly  indifferent  which  I 
touch  ;  becaufe  as  yet  I  view  the  matter  remotely 
and  generally,  being  but  in  the  firfl;  ftep  of  the  mind's 
progrefs  in  the  affair.  But  yet,  when  I  am  a6lually 
come  to  the  laft  ftep,  and  the  very  next  thing  to  be 
determined  is  which  is  to  be  touched,  having  alrea- 
dy determined  that  I  will  touch  that  which  happens 
to  be  mod  in  my  eye  or  mind,  and  my  mind  being 
now  fixed  on  a  particular  one,  the  a6l  of  touching 
that,  confidered  thus  immediately,  and  in  thefe  par- 
ticular prefent  circumftanccs,  is  not  what  my  mind 
is  abfolutely  indifferent  about. 


Section     VII. 

Concerning  the  notion  of  Liberty  of  Will,  conffling 
in  Indifference. 

xA^iiAT  has  been  faid  in  the  foregoing  fe6lion,  has 
a  tendency  in  fome  meafure  to  evince  the  abfurdity 
of  the  opinion  of  fuch  as  place  Liberty  in  Indiffer- 
ence, or  in  that  equilibrium  whereby  the  Will  is 
without  all  antecedent  determination  or  bias,  and 


Sea.  VII.      OJ  Liberty  of  Indifference.  83 

left  hitherto  free  from  any  prepoffeffing  inclination 
to  one  fide  or  the  other ;  that  the  determination  of 
the  Will  to  either  fide  may  be  entirely  from  itfelf, 
and  that  it  may  be  owing  only  to  its  own  power, 
and  that  fovereignty  which  it  has  over  itfelf,  that  it 
goes  this  way  rather  than  that.* 

But  in  as  much  as  this  has  been  of  fuch  long 
{landing,  and  has  been  fo  generally  received,  and  fo 
much  iiifified  on  by  Pelagians,  Semi- Pelagians,  Jefu- 
its,  Socinians,  Arminians,  and  others,  it  may  deferve 
a  more  full  confideration.  And  therefore  I  fhall 
now  proceed  to  a  more  particular  and  thorough  en- 
quiry into  this  notion. 

Now,  left  fome  (houid  fuppofe  that  I  do  not  un- 
derftand  thofe  that  place  Liberty  in  Indifference, 
or  fiiould  charge  me  with  mifreprefenting  their  opin- 
ion, I  would  fignify,  that  I  am  fenfible,  there  are 

.  *  Dr.  Whitby,  and  fome  other  Arminians,  make  a  diftinc- 
tlon  ol  different  kinds  ot  ireedom ;  one  of  God,  and  perte6l 
fpirits  above  ;  another  oi  perfoos  in  a  ftate  of  trial.  The  for- 
mer Dr.  Whitby  allows  to  confift  with  neceflity  ;  the  latter 
he  holds  to  be  without  neceflity  :  and  this  latter  he  fuppofes 
to  be  rcquifite  to  our  being  the  fubjeBs  of  praife  or  difpraife, 
rewards  or  punlfliments,  precepts  and  prohibitions,  promifes 
and  threats,  exhortations  and  dehortations,  and  a  covenap.t- 
tieaty.  And  to  this  freedom  he  fuppofes  Indifference  to  be 
rcquiiite.  In  his  Difcourfe  on  the  five  points,  p.  299,  300, 
he  fays,  *'  It  is  a  irecdorn  (fpeaklng  ot  a  Ireedom  not  only 
*'  from  CO  atllon,  buttrom  neceflityj  requifite,  as  we  conceive, 
*'  to  render  us  capable  of  trial  or  probation,  and  to  render  cur 
*'  aclions  worthy  of  praife  or  difpraife,  and  our  perfons  ol  re- 
*'  wards  or  punifhments."  An-^  in  the  next  page,  fpeakino- 
ol  the  fame  matter,  he  fays,  *'  Excellent  to  this  purpofe,  are 
*'  the  words  ol  Mr.  Thorndike  :  IVe  fay  not  that  Indifference 
*'  is  requijite  to  all  jrcedom,  but  to  the  Jreedom  oJ  a  man  alone 
"  in  this  /late  of  travail  and  proficience  :  the  ground  of  wkick 
"  IS  God's  tender  of  a  treaty^  and  conditions  of  peace  and  re- 
*'  concilement  to  fallen  ?nan,  together  with  thofe  precepts  and 
*'  prohibitions,  thofe  promifes  and  threats,  thofe  exhortations 
*'  and  dehortations,  it  is  enforced  with.'' 


84^  Of  Liberty  confijling  Part  II. 

fome,  who,  when  they  talk  of  the  Liberty  of  the 
Will  as   confifling   in  Indifference,   exprefs  them- 
felves  as  though  they  would  not  be  underflood  of 
the  Indifference  of  the  inclination  or  tendency  of 
the  Will,  but  of,  I  know  not  what,  Indifference  of 
the  foul's  power  of  willing  ;  or  that  the  Will,  with 
refpeft  to  its  power  or  ability  to  choofe,  is  indiffer- 
ent, can  go  either  way  indifferently,  either  co  the 
right  hand  or  left,  either  aft  or  forbear  to  2l&:,  one 
as  well  as  the  other.     Though  this  feems  to  be  a 
refining  only  of  fome  particular  writers,  and  newly 
invented,  and  which  will  by  no  means  confift  with 
the  manner  of  expreffion  ufed  by  the  defenders  of 
Liberty  of  Indifference   in  general.      And  I  wifh 
fuch  refiners  would  thoroughly  confider,    whether 
they  diPvinctly  know  their  own  meaning,  when  they 
make  a  diflin£lion  between  Indifference  of  the  foul 
as  to  its  porver  or  ability  of  willing  or  choofing,  and 
the  foul's  Indifference  as  to  the  preference  or  choice 
itfelf ;  and  whether  they  do  not  deceive  themfelves 
in  imagining  that  they  have  any  diftinQ  meaning  at 
all.     The  Indifference  of  the  foul  as  to  its  ability  or 
power  to  Will,  muff  be  the  fame  thing  as  the  Indif- 
ference of  the  ftate  of  the  power  or  faculty  of  the 
Will,  or  the  indifference  of  the  flate  which  the  foul 
itfelf,  which  has  that  power  or  faculty,  hiiherto  re- 
mains in,  as  to  the  exercife  of  that  power,  in  the 
choice  it  fhall  by  and  by  make. 

But  not  to  infift  any  longer  on  the  obftrufenefs 
and  inexplicablenefs  of  this  diflinClion  ;  let  what  will 
be  fuppofed  concerning  the  meaning  of  them  that 
make  ufe  of  it,  thus  much  muft  at  lea  ft  be  intended 
by  Arminians  when  they  talk  of  Indifference  as  effen- 
tial  to  Liberty  of  Will,  if  they  intend  any  thing,  ia 
any  re(pe6l  to  their  purpofe,  viz.  That  it  is  fuch  an 
Indifference  as  leaves  the  Will  not  detennined  alrea- 
dy I  but  free  from  adual  poffeffion,  and  vacant  of 


Se6l.  VIL  in  IndifFerencc.  85 

predetermination,  fo  far,  that  there  may  be  room  for 
the  exercife  of  the  [elf- determining  power  of  the  Will ; 
and  that  the  Will's  freedom  confills  in,  or  depends 
upon  this  vacancy  and  opportunity  that  is  left  for 
the  Will  itfelf  to  be  the  determiner  of  the  a6t  that  is 
to  be  the  free  a6l. 

And  here  1  would  obferve  in  the  Jlrjl  place,  that 
to  make  out  this  fcheme  of  Liberty,  the  Indi{Fc;rence 
muft  be  per/e^  and  abfolute  ;  there  muft  be  a  perfe6l 
freedom  from  all  antecedent  preponderation  or  in- 
clination. Becaufe  if  the  Will  be  already  inclined, 
before  it  exerts  its  own  fovereign  power  on  iticif, 
then  its  inclination  is  not  wholly  owing  to  itleif :  if 
when  two  oppolites  are  propofed  to  the  foul  for  its 
choice,  the  propofal  does  not  find  the  foul  wholly 
in  a  Hate  of  Indifference,  then  it  is  not  found  in  a 
(late  of  Liberty  for  mere  felf-determination. — The 
lead  degree  of  an  antecedent  bias  muft  be  inconfift- 
ent  with  their  notion  of  Liberty.  For  fo  long  as 
prior  inclination  polTeffes  the  Will,  and  is  not  re- 
moved, it  binds  the  Will,  fo  that  it  is  utterly  impof- 
lible  that  the  Will  fliould  a6i;  otherwife  than  agreea- 
bly to  it.  Surely  the  Will  cannot  a61:  or  choolc  con- 
trary to  a  remaining  prevailing  inclination  of  the 
Will.  To  fuppofe  otherwife,  would  be  the  fame 
thing  as  to  fuppofe,  that  the  Will  is  inclined  conuzry 
to  its  prefent  prevailing  inclination^  or  contrary  to 
what  it  is  inclined  to.  That  which  the  Will  choofcs 
and  prefers,  that,  all  things  confidered,  it  preponde- 
rates and  inclines  to.  It  is  equally  impofiible  for 
the  Will  to  choofe  contrary  to  its  own  remaining 
and  prefent  preponderating  inclination,  as  it  is  to 
prefer  contrary  to  its  own  prefent  preference,  or  choofe 
contrary  to  its  own  prefent  c/zozce.  I'hc  Will,  there- 
fore, fo  long  as  it  is  under  the  influence  of  an  old 
preponderating  inclination,  is  not  at  Liberty  for  a 
new  free  a6l,  or  any  a6t  that  fhall  now  be  an  a6l  of 


86  OJ  Liberty  of  Will  Part  11. 

felf-determination.  The  ad  which  is  a  felf-deter- 
inined  free  aQ,  mufl:  bean  a6l  which  the  Will  deter- 
mines in  the  poffeflion  and  ufe  of  fuch  a  Liberty, 
as  conGfls  in  a  freedom  from  every  thing,  v/hich,  if 
it  were  there,  would  make  it  impollible  that  the 
Will,  at  that  time,  fliould  be  otherwife  than  that  way 
to  which  it  tends. 

If  any  one  fhould  fay,  there  is  no  need  that  the 
Indifference  fhould  be  perfe6l ;  but  although  a  form- 
er inclination  and  preference  ftill  remains,  yet,  if  it 
be  not  very  ftrong  and  violent,  pofTibly  the  llrength 
of  the  Will  may  oppofe  and  overcome  it : — This  is 
groCsly  abfurd;  for  the  firength  of  the  Will,  let  it 
be  never  fo  great,  does  not  at  all  enable  it  to  a6l  one 
way,  and  not  the  contrary  way,  both  at  the  fame 
time.  It  gives  it  no  fuch  fovereignty  and  command, 
as  to  caufe  itfelf  to  prefer  and  not  to  prefer  at  the 
fame  time,  or  to  choofe  contrary  to  its  own  prefenfc 
choice. 

Therefore,  if  there  be  the  leafl  degree  of  antece- 
dent preponderation  of  the  Will,  it  mufl  be  per- 
fedly  abolifhcd,  before  the  Will  can  be  at  liberiy  to 
determine  itfelf  the  contrary  way.  And  if  the  Will 
determines  itfelf  the  fame  way,  it  was  not  ^free  de* 
termination,  becaufe  the  Will  is  not  wholly  at  Liber- 
ty in  fo  doing:  its  determination  is  not  altogether 
from  itfelf,  but  it  was  partly  determined  before,  in  its 
prior  inclination  :  and  all  the  freedom  the  Will  exer- 
cifes  in  the  cafe,  is  in  an  increafe  of  inclination,  v/hich 
it  gives  itfelf,  over  and  above  what  it  had  by  forego- 
ing bias  ;  fo  much  is  from  itfelf,  and  fo  much  is  from 
perfe6t  Indifference.  For  though  the  Will  had  a 
previous  tendency  that  way,  yet  as  to  that  additional 
degree  of  inclination,  it  had  no  tendency.  There- 
fore the  previous  tendency  is  of  no  confideration, 
with  relped  to  the  a£l  wherein  the  Will  is  free.  So 
that  it  comes  to  the  fame  thing  which  was  faid  at  firfl. 


Sedi.  VIL       confijllng  in  Indifference.  87 

that  as  to  the  a6l  of  the  Will,  wherein  the  Will  [$ 
free,  there  mud  be  perfeB  Indifference,  or  equilibrium. 

To  illuftrate  this ;  if  we  fhould  fuppofe  a  fovereign 
felf-moving  power  in  a  natural  body  :  but  that  the 
body  is  in  motion  already,  by  an  antecedent  bias  ; 
for  inftance,  gravitation  towards  the  centre  of  the 
earth  :  and  has  one  degree  of  motion  already,  by 
virtue  o^  that  previous  tendency  ;  but  by  its  felf- 
moving  power  it  adds  one  degree  more  to  its  motion, 
and  moves  fo  much  more  fwiftly  towards  the  centre 
of  the  earth  than  it  would  do  by  its  gravity  only  : 
it  is  evident,  that  all  that  is  owing  to  a  felf-moving 
power  in  this  cafe,  is  the  additional  degree  of  mo- 
tion ;  and  that  the  other  degree  of  motion  which  it 
had  from  gravity,  is  of  no  confideration  in  the  cafe, 
does  not  help  the  effeQ:  of  the  free  felf-moving  pow- 
er in  the  lead;  the  efFe61:  is  jufl:  the  fame,  as  if  the 
body  had  received  from  itfelf  one  degree  of  motion 
from  a  ftate  of  perfe6l  reft.  So  if  we  fliould  fup- 
pofe a  felf-moving  power  given  to  the  fcale  of  a  bal- 
ance, which  has  a  weight  of  one  degree  beyond  the 
oppofite  fcale;  and  we  afcribe  to  it  an  ability  to  add 
to  itfelf  another  degree  of  force  the  fame  way,  by  its 
felf-moving  power;  this  is  juft  the  fame  thing  as  to 
afcribs  to  it  a  power  to  give  itfelf  one  degree  of  pre- 
ponderation  from  a  perfecl  equilibrium;  and  fo 
much  power  as  the  fcale  has  to  give  itfelt  an  over- 
balance from  a  perfedt  equipoife,  fo  much  felf-mov- 
ing feif-preponderating  power  it  has,  and  no  more. 
So  that  its  free  power  this  way  is  always  to  be  meaf- 
ured  from  perfe6i:  equilibrium. 

I  need  fay  no  more  to  prove,  that  if  Indifference 
be  effential  to  Liberty,  it  muft  hz  perfe6l  Indiffer- 
ence :  and  that  fo  far  as  the  Will  is  deftitute  of  this, 
fo  far  it  is  deflitute  of  that  freedom  by  which  it  is  its 
own  mafter,  and  in  a  capacity  of  being  its  own  de- 
Urminer,  without  being  at  all  pafTive,  or   fubje6l  to 


88  OfLlhertyofWill  Part  IL 

the  pouter  and  fway  of  fomeihingelfe,  in  its  motions 
and  determinations. 

Having  oblerved  thefe  things,  let  us  now  try 
whether  this  notion  of  the  Liberty  of  Will  confilling 
in  Indifference  and  equilibrium,  and  the  Will's  felf- 
determination  in  fuch  a  ftate  be  not  abfurd  and  in- 
coniillent. 

And  here  I  would  lay  down  this  as  an  axiom  of 
unf^oubied  cruth  ;  that .  every  free  aB  is  done  in  a  Jlate 
oj  jreedom,  and  not  only  ajter  fuch  a  Jlate,  If  an  a6t 
of  the  Will  be  an  a6i  wherein  the  ioul  is  free,  it  muft 
be  exerted  in  3.  Jlate  of  freedom,  and  in  the  ti^ne  of  free" 
dom.  It  will  not  fuiSce,  that  the  a61;  immediately 
follows  a  ftate  of  Liberty  ;  but  Liberty  muft  yet 
continue,  and  co-exiil  with  the  a6l;  the  foul  re- 
maining in  pofteftion  of  Liberty,  Becaufe  that  is 
the  notion  of  a  free  atl  of  the  foul,  even  an  a6l 
wherein  the  foul  ufs  or  exercifes  Liberty.  But  if  the 
foul  is  not,  in  the  very  time  of  the  adt,  in  the  pojfef' 
Jion  of  Liberty,  it  cannot  at  that  time  be  in  the  ufe 
of  it. 

Now  the  queftion  is,  whether  ever  the  foul  of  man 
puts  forth  an  a6l  of  Will,  while  it  yet  remains  in  a 
flate  of  Liberty,  in  that  notion  of  a  ftate  of  Liberty, 
viz,  as  implying  a  ftate  of  Indifference,  or  whether 
i\\Q  foul  ever  exerts  an  a6l  of  choice  or  preference, 
while  at  that  very  time  the  Will  is  in  a  perfefcl  equi- 
librium, not  inclining  one  way  more  than  another. 
The  very  putting  of  the  queftion  is  fuflicient  toftiew 
the  abmrdity  of  the  affirmative  anfwer  :  for  how 
ridiculous  would  it  be  for  any  body  to  infift,  that 
that  the  foul  chocles  one  thing  before  anofber,  when 
at  the  very  lame  mftant  it  is  perfedly  indiff"erent 
with  refpeCl  to  each  !  This  is  the  fame  thing  as  to 
fay,  the  foul  prefers  one  thing  to  another,  at  the  ve- 
ry fame  time  that  it  has  no  preference.  Choice  and 
preference  can  no  more  be  in  a  ftate  of  Indift"erence, 


Se6l.  VII.       confijling  in  Indifference.  89 

than  motion  can  be  in  a  (late  of  reft,  or  than  the 
preponderation  of  the  fcale  of  a  balance  can  be  in 
a  Hate  of  equilibrium.  Motion  may  be  the  next 
moment  after  reft  ;  but  cannot  co-exift  with  it,  in 
any,  even  the  leajl  part  of  it.  So  choice  may  be 
immediately  after  a  ftate  of  Indifference,  but  has 
no  co-exiftence  with  it  :  even  the  very  beginning 
of  it  is  not  in  a  ftate  of  Indifference.  And  there- 
fore if  this  be  Liberty,  no  a6l  of  the  Will,  in  any 
degree,  is  ever  performed  in  a  ftate  of  Liberty,  or 
in  the  time  of  Liberty.  Volition  and  Liberty  are 
fo  far  from  agreeing  together,  and  being  effential 
one  to  another,  that  they  are  contrary  one  to  an- 
other, and  one  excludes  and  deftroys  the  other, 
as  much  as  motion  and  reft,  light  and  darkncfs,  or 
life  and  death.  So  that  the  Will  a6ls  not  at  all, 
does  not  fo  much  as  begin  to  a6l  in  the  time  of 
fuch  Liberty  :  freedom  is  perfedly  at  an  end,  and 
has  ceafed  to  be,  at  the  firft  moment  of  a6lion  ;  and 
therefore  Liberty  cannot  reach  the  a6lion,  to  af- 
fe61;,  or  qualify  it,  or  give  it  a  denomination,  or 
any  part  of  it,  any  more  than  if  it  had  ceafed  to 
be  twenty  years  before  the  a6lion  began.  The  mo-, 
ment  that  Liberty  eeafes  to  be,  it  ceafes  to  be  a 
qualification  of  any  thing.  If  light  and  darknefs 
fucceed  one  another  inftantaaeoully,  light  quali- 
fies nothing  after  it  is  gone  out,  to  make  any  thing 
lightfome  or  bright,  any  more  at  the  firft  moment 
of  perfe£l  darknefs,  than  months  or  years  after. 
Life  denominates  nothing  vital  at  the  firft  moment 
of  perfeft  death.  So  freedom,  if  it  confifts  in,  or 
implies  Indifference,  can  denominate  nothing  free, 
at  the  firft  moment  of  preference  or  preponderation. 
Therefore  it  is  manifeft,  that  no  Liberty  which  the 
foul  is  poffelFed  of,  or  ever  ufes,  in  any  of  its  a6ls 
of  volition,  confifts  in  Indifference ;  and  that  the 
opinion  of  fuch  as  fuppofe,   that  Indifference  be- 

O 


go  Of  Liberty  of  Will  Part  II. 

longs  to  the  very  eflence  of  Liberty,  is  to  the  high- 
eft  degree  abfurd  and  contradi6lory. 

If  any  one  fliould  iniagirie,  that  this  manner  of 
arguing  is  nothing  but  a  trick  and  delufion  ;  and 
to  evade  the  reafoning,  fhould  fay,  that  the  thing 
wherein  the  Will  exercifes  its  Liberty,  is  not  in  the 
a£i;  of  choice  or  preponderation  itfelf,  but  in  deter- 
mining itfelf  to  a  certain  choice  or  preference  ;  that 
the  a6t  of  the  Will  wherein  it  is  free,  and  ufes  its 
ov/n  fovereignly,  confifts  in  its  caufmg  or  determining 
the  change  or  tranjition  from  a  ftate  of  Indifference 
to  a  certain  preference,  or  determining  to  give  a  cer- 
tain turn  to  the  balance,  which  has  hitherto  been 
even  ;  and  that  this  aft  the  Will  exerts  in  a  ftate  of 
Liberty,  or  while  the  Will  yet  remains  in  equilibri- 
um, and  perfe6l  mafter  of  itfelf. — I  fay,  if  any  one 
choofes  to  exprels  his  notion  of  Liberty  after  this, 
orfome  fuch  manner,  let  us  fee  if  he  can  make  out 
his  matters  any  better  than  before. 

What  is  afferted  is,  that  the  Will,  while  it  yet  re- 
mains in  perfe6l  equilibrium,  without  preference, 
determines  to  change  itfelf  from  that  ftate,  and  ex- 
cite in  itfelf  a  certain  choice  or  preference.  Now 
let  us  fee  whether  this  does  not  come  to  the  fame 
abfurdity  we  had  before.  If  it  be  fo,  that  the  Will, 
while  it  yet  remains  perfedly  indifferent,  determines 
to  put  itfelf  out  of  that  ftate,  and  give  itfelf  a  cer- 
tain preponderation;  then  I  would  inquire,  whether 
the  foul  does  not  determine  this  of  choice  ;  or 
whether  the  WilTs  coming  to  a  determination  to  do 
fo,  be  not  the  fame  thing  as  the  foul's  coming  to  a 
choice  to  do  fo.  If  the  foul  does  not  determine  this 
of  choice,  or  in  the  exercife  of  choice,  then  it  does 
not  determine  it  voluntarily.  And.  if  the  foul  does 
not  determine  it  votuntarily,  or  of  its  own  Will,  then 
in  what  fenfe  docs  its  Will  determine  it  ?  And  if  the 
Will  does  not  determine  it,  then  how  is  the  Liberty 


Seft.  VII.        confijling  in  IndifFerence.  91 

of  the  Will  exercifed    in   the   del-ermination  ?  What 
fort  of  Liberty  is  exercifed  by  the  foul  in  thofe  de- 
terminations, wherein  there  is  no  exercife  of  choice, 
which  are  not  voluntary,   and  wherein  the  Will  is 
not  concerned  ? — But  if  it  be  allowed,  that  this  de- 
termination is  an  a6l  of  choice,  and  it  be  infilled  on, 
that  the  foul,  while  it  yet  remains  in  a  flate  of  per- 
fe6l  IndifFerence,   choofes   to  put  itfelf  out  of  that 
flate,  and  to  turn  itfelf  one  way  ;  then  the  foul  is  al- 
ready come  to  a  choice,  and  choofes  that  way.    And 
fo  we  have  the  very  fame  abfurdity  which  we  had 
before.     Here  is  the  foul  in  a  flate  of  choice,  j\nd  in 
a  flate  of  equilibrium,    both  at  the  fame  time  :   the 
foul  already  choofing  one  way,  while  it  remains  in 
a  flate  of  perfe6l  Indifference,  and  has  no  choice  of 
one  way  more   than    the  other. — And   indeed  this 
manner  of  talking,  though  it  may  a  little  hide  the 
abfurdity   in  the   obfcurity  of  expreflion,  is  more 
nonfenlical,    and    increafes  the  inconfiftence.     To 
fay,   the  free  a6l  of  the  Will,  or  the  a6l  which  the 
Will  exerts  in  a  flate  of  freedom  and  IndifFerence, 
does  not  imply  preference  in  it,  but  is  what  the  Will 
does  in  order  to  caufing  or  producing  a  preference, 
is  as  much  as  to  fay,   the  foul  choofes  (for  to  will 
and  to  choofe  are  the  fame  thing)    without  choice, 
and  prefers  without  preference,  in  order  to  caufe  or 
produce  the  beginning  of  a    preference,  or  the  firfl 
choice.     And  that  is,  that  the  firfl  choice  is  exerted 
without  choice,  in  order  to  produce  itfelf. 

If  any,  to  evade  thefe  things,  fhould  own,  that  a 
flate  of  Liberty,  and  a  flate  of  Indifference  are  not 
the  fame,  and  that  the  former  may  be  without  the 
latter  ;  but  fhould  fay,  that  Indifference  is  flill  ef" 
fential  to  the  freedom  of  an  a6l  of  Will,  in  fome  fort, 
namely,  as  it  is  neceffary  to  go  immediately  before 
it  :  it  being  effential  to  the  freedom  of  an  a6l  of 
Will   that  it  fliould  direftly  and  immediately  arifc 


gi  Of  Liberty's  lying  in  a  Power       Part  II. 

cut  of  a  ftate  of  IndifFerence  :  flill  this  will  not  help 
the  caufe  of  Arminian  Liberty,  or  make  it  confillent 
with  itfelf.  For  if  the  aft  fprings  immediately  out 
of  a  ftate  ot  IndifFerence,  then  it  does  not  arife  from 
antecedent  choice  or  preference.  But  if  the  a6l  arifes 
direftly  out  of  a  ftate  of  IndifFerence,  without  any 
intervening  choice  to  choofe  and  determine  it,  then 
the  aft  not  being  determined  by  choice,  is  not  de- 
termined by  the  Will  ;  the  mind  exercifes  no  free 
choice  in  the  afFair,  and  free  choice  and  free  W^ill 
have  no  hand  in  the  delermination  of  the  aft.  Which 
is  entirely  inconiiftent  with  their  notion  of  the  free- 
dom of  Volition. 

If  any  fhould  fuppofe,  that  thefe  difficulties  and 
abfurdities  may  be  avoided,  by  faying,  that  the 
Liberty  of  the  mind  confifts  in  a  power  to  fufpend 
the  aft  of  the  Will,  and  fo  to  keep  it  in  a  ftate  of 
Indifference,  until  there  has  been  opportunity  for 
connderation  ;  and  fo  fhall  fay,  that  however  In- 
difFerence is  not  efFential  to  Liberty  in  fuch  a  man- 
ner, that  the  mind  muft  make  its  choice  in  a  ftate 
of  IndifFerence,  which  is  an  inconliftency,  or  that 
the  a6t  of  Will  muft  fpring  immediately  out  of  In- 
difFerence ;  yet  indifFerence  may  be  eilential  to  the 
Liberty  of  afts  of  the  Will  in  this  refpcft,  viz. 
That  Liberty  conFifts  in  a  Poiver  of  the  mind  to 
forbear  or  fufpend  the  aft  of  Volition,  and  keep 
the  mind  in  a  ftate  of  IndifFerence  for  the  prefent, 
until  there  has  been  opportunity  for  proper  delib- 
eration :  I  fay,  if  any  one  imagines  that  this  helps 
the  matter,  it  is  a  great  mi  Flake  :  it  reconciles  no 
jnconfiftency,  and  relieves  no  difficulty  which  the 
alFair  is  attended  with. — For  here  the  following 
things  muft  be  obferved  : 

1.  That  this  Jiifpending, of  Volition,  if  there  be 
properly  any  fuch  thmg,  is  itfelf  an  atl  of  Voli- 
tion,    If  the  mind  determine*  to  fufpend  its  aft, 


Sefl:.  VII.  to  fufpend  Volition. 


93 


it  determines  it  voluntarily  ;  it  choofes,  on  fome 
confidcration,  to  fufpend  it.  And  this  choice  or 
determination,  is  an  a6t  of  the  Will  :  And  indeed 
it  is  fcppofed  to  be  fo  in  the  very  hypothefis  ;  for 
it  is  fuppofed  that  the  Liberty  of  the  Will  confills 
in  its  Power  to  do  this,  and  that  its  doing  it  is  the 
very  thing  wherein  the  Will  exercifes  its  Liberty.  But 
how  can  the  Will  exercife  Liberty  in  it,  if  it  be 
not  an  aft  of  '.he  Will  ?  The  Liberty  of  the  Will 
is  not  exercifed  in  any  thing  but  what  the  Will  does. 
2.  This  determining  to  fufpend  ading  is  not  on- 
ly an  aft  of  the  Will,  but  it  is  fuppofed  to  be  the 
only  free  aft  of  the  Will  ;  becaufe  it  is  faid,  that 
this  is  the  thing  wherein  the  Liberty  of  the  Will  confifts, 
— Now  if  this  be  fo,  then  this  is  all  the  aft  of  will 
that  we  have  to  confider  in  this  controverfy,  about 
the  Liberty  of  Will,  and  in  our  enquiries,  wherein 
the  Liberty  of  man  confi ils.  And  now  the  fore- 
mentioned  difficulties  remain  :  the  former  queftion 
returns  upon  us,  viz.  Wherein  confills  the  free- 
dom of  the  Will  in  thofe  aUs  wherein  it  is  free  ?  z^nd 
if  this  aft  of  determining  a  fufpenfion  be  the  only 
aft  in  which  the  Will  is  free,  then  wherein  confifts 
the  Will's  freedom  with  refpeft  to  this  aft  of  fufpen- 
fion ?  And  how  is  Indifference  elfential  to  this  aft  ? 
The  anfwer  muft  be,  according  to  what  is  fuppofed 
in  the  evafion  under  confideration,  that  the  Liberty 
of  the  Will  in  this  aft  of  fufpenfion,  confifts  in  a 
Power  to  fufpend  even  this  aft,  until  there  has 
been  opportunity  for  thorough  deliberation.  But 
this  will  be  to  plunge  direftly  into  the  grofteft  non- 
fenfe  :  for  it  is  the  aft  of  fufpenfion  itfelf  that  we 
are  fpeafeing  of ;  and  there  is  no  room  for  a  fpace 
of  deliberation  and  lufpenfion  in  order  to  deter- 
mine whether  we  will  fufpend  or  no.  For  that 
luppofes,  that  even  fufpenfion  itfelf  may  be  de- 
ferred :   which  is  abfurd  ;   for  the  very  deferring 


94  0/  fufpending  Volition,  Part  IL 

the  determination  of  fufpenfion  to  conGder  wheth- 
er we  will  fufpend  or  no,  will  be  a6lually  fufpend- 
ing.  For  during  the  fpace  of  fufpenfion,  to  con- 
fider,  whether  to  fufpend,  the  a6t  is  ipfo  faElo  fuf- 
pended.  There  is  no  medium  between  fufpending 
to  aft,  and  immediately  ading  ;  and  therefore  no 
poflibility  of  avoiding  either  the  one  or  the  other 
one  moment. 

And  befides,  this  is  attended  with  ridiculous  ab- 
furdity  another  way  :  for  now  it  is  come  to  that, 
that  Liberty  confifts  wholly  in  the  mind's  having 
Power  to  fufpend  its  determination  whether  to  fuf- 
pend or  no  ;  that  there  may  be  time  for  confidera- 
tion,  whether  it  be  beft  to  fufpend.  And  if  Lib- 
erty confifts  in  this  only,  then  this  is  the  Liberty 
under  confideration  :  we  have  to  enquire  now,  how 
Liberty  with  refpecl  to  this  aft  of  fufpending  a  de- 
termination of  fufpenfion,  confifts  in  Indiff^erence, 
or  how  Indiff^erence  is  effential  to  it.  The  anfwer, 
according  to  the  hypothefis  we  are  upon,  muft  be, 
that  it  confifts  in  a  Power  of  fufpending  even  this 
laft  mentioned  aft,  to  have  time  to  confider  wheth- 
er to  fufpend  that.  And  then  the  fame  difficul- 
ties and  enquires  return  over  again  with  refpeft 
to  that  ;  and  fo  on  for  ever.  Which,  if  it  would 
fhew  any  thing,  would  fhew  only  that  there  is  no 
fuch  thing  as  a  free  aft.  It  drives  the  exercife  of 
freedom  back  in  infinitum  ;  and  that  is  to  drive  it 
out  of  the  world. 

And  befides  all  this,  there  is  a  delufion,  and  a  la- 
tent grofs  contradiftion  in  the  aff'air  another  way  ; 
in  as  much  as  in  explaining  how,  or  in  what  ref- 
peft the  Will  is  free  with  regard  to  a  particular  aft 
of  Volition,  it  is  faid  that  its  Liberty  confifts  in  a 
Power  to  determine  to  fufpend  that  ail,  which  plac- 
es Liberty  not  in  that  a5i  of  Volition  which  the  en- 
quiry is  about,  but  altogether  in  another  antecedent 


Sea.  VIIL  Ofi\\t  fuppofed  Liberty,  Sec.  95 

aft.  Which  contradicts  the  thing  fuppofed  in  both 
the  queflion  and  anfvver.  The  queftion  is,  wherein 
confifls  the  mind's  Liberty  in  any  particular  adl  of 
Volition  ?  And  the  anfvver,  in  pretending  to  fhevv 
wherein  lies  the  mind's  Liberty  in  that  a5l,  in  efFe6l; 
fays,  it  does  not  lie  in  that  a6l  at  all,  but  in  anoth- 
er, viz,  a  Volition  to  fufpend  that  aB.  And  therefore 
the  anfwer  is  both  contradi6lory,  and  altogether  im- 
pertinent and  befide  the  purpofe.  For  it  does  not 
fhew  wherein  the  Liberty  of  the  Will  confifts  in  the 
a6l  in  queftion  ;  inftead  of  that,  it  fuppofes  it  does 
not  confift  in  that  a6l  at  all,  but  in  another  diftinft 
from  it,  even  a  Volition  to  fufpend  that  aft,  and 
take  time  to  confider  of  it.  And  no  account  is  pre- 
tended to  be  given  wherein  the  mind  is  free  with 
refpeft  to  that  aft,  wherein  this  anfwer  fuppofes 
the  Liberty  of  the  mind  indeed  confifts,  viz,  the  aft 
of  fufpenfion,  or  of  determining  the  fufpenfion. 

On  the  whole,  it  is  exceeding  manifeft,  that  the 
Liberty  of  the  mind  does  not  confift  in  Indifference, 
and  that  Indifference  is  not  eCTential  or  neceflfary  to 
it,  or  at  all  belonging  to  it,  as  the  Arminiam  fup- 
pofe  ;  that  opinion  being  full  of  nothing  but  abfur- 
dity  and  felf-contradiftion. 


Section     VIIL 

Concerning  the  fuppofed  Liberty  of  the  Will,  as  oppofitc 
to  all  Neccffity. 

It  is  a  thing  chiefly  infifted  on  by  Arminians,  in 
this  controverfy,  as  a  thing  moft  important  and  ef- 
lential  in  human  Liberty,  that  volitions,  or  the  afts 
of  the  Will,  are  contingent  events  ;  underftanding 
contingence  as  oppofite,  not  only  to  conftraint,  but 


^6  OJ  thefiippofed  Liberty  Part  II. 

to  all  NecefTity.     Therefore  I  would  particularly 
confider  this  matter.     And 

1.  I  would  enquire,  whether  there  is,  or  can  be 
any  fuch  thing,  as  a  volition  which  is  contingent 
in  fuch  a  fenfe,  as  not  only  to  come  to  pafs  with- 
out any  Neceflity  of  conRraint  or  co-aciion,  but  al- 
fo  without  a  NcceJfUy  of  confequence,  or  an  infallible 
connexion  with  any  thing  foregoing. 

2.  Whether,  if  it  were  fo,  this  v/ould  at  all  help 
the  caufe  of  Liberty. 

I,  I  would  confider  whether  volition  is  a  thing 
that  ever  does,  or  can  come  to  pafs,  in  this  manner, 
contingently. 

And  here  it  muft  be  remembered,  that  it  has  been 
already  fhewn,  that  nothing  can  ^ever  come  to  pafs 
without  a  caufe,  or  reafonwhy  it  exifts  in  this  man- 
ner rather  than  another  ;  and  the  evidence  of  this 
has  been  particularly  applied  to  the  a6ls  of  the  Will. 
Now  if  this  be  fo,  it  will  demondrably  follow,  that 
the  a6ls  of  the  Will  are  never  contingent,  or  with- 
out neceffity  in  the  fenfe  fpoken  of  ;  in  as  much  as 
thofe  things  which  have  a  caufe,  or  reafon  of  their 
exiftence,  muft  be  conne^ed  with  their  caufe. 
This  appears  by  the  following  confideralions. 

1.  For  an  event  to  have  a  caufe  and  ground  of  its 
exifi:ence,  and  yet  not  be  connected  with  its  caufe, 
is  an  inconfiflence.  For  if  the  event  be  not  con- 
nected with  the  caufe,  it  is  not  dependent  on  the 
caufe  ;  its  exiftence  is  as  it  were  loofe  from  its  in- 
fluence, and  may  attend  it  or  may  not  ;  it  being  a 
mere  contingence,  whether  it  follows  or  attends  the 
influence  of  the  caufe,  or  not  :  And  that  is  the  fame 
thing  as  not  to  be  dependent  on  it.  And  to  fay  the 
event  is  not  dependent  on  its  caufe  is  abfurd  :  It  is 
the  fame  thing  as  to  fay.  it  is  not  its  caufe,  nor  the 
event  the  cffed  of  it  :  For  dependence  on  the  in- 
fluence of  a  caufe  is  the  very  notion  of  an  effect. 


ScS:,  VIIL         without  all  NecefTity. 


97 


If  there  be  no  fuch  relation  between  one  thing  and 
another,  confiding  in  the  connexion  and  dependence 
of  one  thina  on  the  influence  of  another,  then  it  is 
certain  there  is  no  fuch  relition  between  them  as  is 
fignified  by  the  terms  caiife  and  rffech  So  far  as  an 
event  is  dependent  on  a  caufe  and  connc6led  with 
it,  fo  much  caufality  is  there  in  the  cafe,  and  no 
more.  The  caufe  does,  or  brings  to  pafs  no  more 
in  any  event,  than  is  dependent  on  it.  If  we  fay, 
the  connexion  and  dependence  is  not  total,  but  par- 
tial, and  that  the  efFe6l,  though  it  has  fome  connex- 
ion and  dependence,  yet  is  not  entirely  dependent 
on  it  ;  that  is  the  fame  thing  as  to  fay,  that  not  all 
that  is  in  the  event  is  an  efFed  of  that  .  \ufe,  but  that 
only  a  part  of  it  arifes  from  thence,  and  part  fome 
other  way. 

2.  If  there  are  fome  events  which  are  not  necefla- 
rily  conneded  with  their  caufes,  then  it  will  follow 
that  there  are  fome  things  which  come  to  pafs  with- 
out any  caufe,  contrary  to  the  fuppofition.  For  if 
there  be  any  event  which  was  not  neceirarily  con- 
re6led  with  the  influence  of  the  caufe  under  fuch 
circumftances,  then  it  was  contingent  whether  it 
would  attend  or  follow  the  influence  of  the  caufe,  or 
no  ;  it  might  have  followed,  and  it  might  not,  when 
the  caufe  was  the  fame,  its  influence  the  fame,  and 
under  the  fame  circumflances.  And  if  fo,  why  did 
it  follow,  rather  than  not  follow  ?  There  is  no  caufe 
or  reafon  of  this.  Therefore  here  is  fomethincr  with^ 
out  any  caufe  or  reafon  why  it  is,  viz.  the  follow- 
ing of  the  efFe6l  on  the  influence  of  the  caufe,  with 
which  it  was  not  necefl'arily  connecled.  If  there  be 
a  necefl'ary  connexion  of  the  effe6l  on  any  thin^ 
antecedent,  then  we  may  fuppofe  that  fometimes 
the  event  will  follow  the  caufe,  and  fometimes  not, 
when  the  caufe  is  the  fame,  and  in  every  refpedl  in 

P 


9?  Of  ihifiippofcd  Liberty  Part  II. 

the  fame  Rate  and  circiim (lances.  And  what  can  be 
the  caufe  and  leafou  of  this  ftrange  phenomenon, 
even  this  diverfity,  that  in  one  inftance,  the  efFecl 
Ihoiild  follow,  in  another  not  ?  It  is  evident  by  the 
fuppofition,  th;it  this  is  wholly  wirhouc  any  caufe  or 
ground.  Here  is  fomething  in  the  prefent  manner 
of  the  exiRence  of  things,  and  ilate  of  the  world,  that 
is  abfolutely  without  a  caufe  ;  which  is  contrary  to 
the  fuppofition,  and  contrary  to  what  has  been  be- 
fore demonflrated. 

3.  To  fuppofe  there  are  fome  events  which  have 
a  caufe  and  ground  of  their  exiflence,  that  yet  are 
not  neceffarily  conneded  with  their  caufe,  is  to  fup- 
pofe that  they  Tiave  a  caufe  which  is  not  their  caufe". 
Thus,  if  the  cfFc6l  be  not  necefl'arily  conneded  with 
the  caufe,  with  its  influence,  and  influential  circum- 
ftances ;  then,  as  I  obfervcd  before,  it  is  a  ihing  pof- 
lible  and  fuppofable,  that  the  caufe  may  fometimes 
exert  the  fame  influence,    under  the  fame  circum- 
ftances,   and  yet  the  efFecl  not  follow.     And  if  this 
aflualiy  happens  in  any  inftance,  this  inftance  is  a 
proof,  in  fact,  that  the  influence  of  the  caufe  is  not 
fufficient  to  produce  the  eff'edl.     For  if  it  had  been 
fufficient,  4t  would  have  done  it.     And-  yet,  by  the 
fuppofition,  in  another  inftance,  the  fame  caufe,  with 
perfeftly  the  fame  influence,    and  when  all  circum- 
Itancts   which  have  any  influence,    are  the  fame,   it 
^  n^as  followed  with  the  eff-e^l.     By  which  it  is  manifeft, 
that  the  effedt  in  this  laft  inftance  was  not  owing  to 
the  influence  of  the   caufe,    but  muft  come  to  pafs 
fome  other  way.     For  it  was  proved  before,  that  the 
influence  of  the  caufe  was  not  fufiicient  to  produce 
the  effeft.     And  if  it   was  not  faflicient  to  produce 
it,   then  the  piodudion  of  it  could  not  be  owing  to 
that  influence,  but  muft  be  owing  to  fomething  elfc, 
or  owing  to  nothing.     And  if  the  efFe£l  be  not  owing 


Se6l.  VIII.  tviihoutall  Nccc[riiy.  gg 

to  the  influence  of  the  caufe,  then  it  is  not  the  caufe  ; 
which  brings  us  to  the  contradiftion  of  a  caule,  and 
no  caufe,  that  which  is  the  ground  and  reafon  of  the 
exiftence  of  a  thing,  and  at  the  fame  time  is  not  tho 
ground  and  reafon  of  its  exiftence,  nor  is  fufficient 
to  be  fo. 

If  the  matter  be  not  already  fo  plain  as  to  render 
any  further  rcafoning  upon  it  impertinent,  I  would 
fay,  thcit  that  which  feetns  to  be  the  caufe  in  the  fup- 
pofed  cafe,  can  be  no  caufe  ;  its  power  and  influence 
having,  on  a  full  trial,  proved  infufiicient  to  produce 
fuch  an  efl'eQ  :  and  if  it  be  not  fufhcient  to  produce 
it,  then  it  does  not  produce  it.  To  fay  otherwife,  is 
to  fay,  there  is  power  to  do  that  which  there  is  not 
power  to  do.  If  there  be  in  a  caufe  fufRcient  power 
exerted,  and  in  circumftances  fufficient  to  produce 
an  efFetl,  and  fo  the  effc^  be  a6lually  produced  at 
one  time ;  ihefe  things  all  concurring,  will  produce 
the  efre6l.  at  all  times.  And  fo  we  may  turn  it  the 
other  way  ;  that  which  proves  not  fufficient  at  one 
time,  cannot  be  fufficient  at  another,  with  precifely 
the  fame  influential  circum fiances.  And  therefore 
if  the  efFe6:  follows,  it  is  not  owing  to  that  caufe  ; 
unlefs  the  different  time  be  a  circumftance  which  has 
influence  :  but  that  is  contrary  to  the  fuppofltion  ; 
for  it  is  fuppofcd  that  all  circumflances  that  have  in- 
fluence, are  the  fame.  And  befides,  this  would  be 
to  fuppofe  the  time  to  be  the  caufe  ;  wh\ch  is  con- 
trary to  the  fuppofition  of  the  other  thing's  being 
the  caufe.  But  if  merely  diverfity  of  time  has  no 
influence,  then  it  is  evident  that  it  is  as  much  of  an 
abfurdity  to  fay,  the  caufe  was  fufficient  to  produce 
the  effe6l  at  one  time,  and  not  at  another  ;  as  to  fay, 
that  it  is  fufficient  to  produce  the  effect  at  a  certain 
time,  and  yet  not  fufficient  to  produce  the  fame  effe6t 
at  the  fam§  time. 


100  Of  the  Connexion  of  the  Will         Part  IK 

On  the  whole,  it  is  clearly  manifeft,  that  every  ef- 
fe6l  has  a  neceffary  connexion  with  its  caufe,  or  with 
that  which  is  the  true  ground  and  reafon  of  its  ex* 
iftence.  And  therefore  if  there  be  no  event  without 
a  caufe,  as  was  proved  before,  then  no  event  what- 
foever  is  contingent  in  the  manner,  that  Arminians 
fuppofe  the  free  adls  of  the  Will  to  be  contingent. 


Section     IX. 

0/  the  Connexion  of  the  Ads  of  the  Will  with  the  DiC" 
tates  oj  the  Underftanding. 

It  is  manifeft,  that  the  a6ts  of  the  Will  are  none  of 
them  contingent  in  fuch  a  fenfe  as  to  be  without  all 
neceffity,  or  fo  as  not  to  be  neceffary  with  a  neceflity 
of  confequence  and  Connexion  ;  becaufe  every  aO; 
of  the  Will  is  fome  way  connefted  with  the  Under- 
ftanding, and  is  as  the  greateft  apparent  good  is,  in 
the  manner  which  has  already  been  explained ;  name- 
ly, that  the  foul  always  wills  or  choofes  that  which, 
in  the  prefent  view  of  the  mind,  confidered  in  the 
whole  of  that  view,  and  all  that  belongs  to  it,  appears 
mod  agreeable.  Becaufe,  as  was  obferved  before, 
nothing  is  more  evident  than  that,  when  men  aft 
voluntarily,  and  do  what  they  pleafe,  then  they  do 
what  appears  moft  agreeable  to  them  ;  and  to  fay 
otherwife,  would  be  as  much  as  to  affirm,  that  men 
do  not  choofe  what  appears  to  fuit  them  beft,  or 
what  feems  mod  pleafing  to  them  ;  or  that  they  do 
not  choofe  what  they  prefer.  Which  brings  the 
matter  to  a  contradiction. 

And  it  is  very  evident  in  itfelf,  that  the  a6ls  of  the 
Will  have  fome  Connexion  with  tjie  dictates  or  views 


Se6l.  IX.         ivith  the  Underftandin^.  lOi 


O' 


of  the  Underftanding,  fo  this  is  allowed  by  fome  of 
the  chief  of  the  Arminlan  writers  ;  particularly  by 
Dr.  Whitby  and  Dr.  Samuel  Clark.  Dr.  Turnbull, 
though  a  great  enemy  to  the  do6trine  of  neceflity, 
allows  the  lame  thing.  In  his  Clirijlian  Philojophy, 
(p.  196)  he  with  much  approbation  cites  another 
philoiopher,  as  cf  the  fame  mind,  in  thefe  v/ords  : 
*•  No  m.an.  (fays  an  excellent  philofopher)  fets  him- 
**  felf  about  any  thing,  but  upon  fome  view  or  other, 
**  which  ferves  him  for  a  reafon  for  what  he  does  ; 
"  and  whatfoever  faculties  he  employ vS,  the  Under- 
**  (landing,  wirh  fuch  light  as  it  has,  well  or  ill  form- 
*'  ed,  conRantly  leads  ;  and  by  that  light,  true  or 
*'  falfe,  all  her  operative  powers  are  dire6kd.  The 
**  Will  itfelf,  howabfolute  and  incontiolabie  foever 
"  it  may  be  thought,  never  fails  in  its  obedience  to 
**  the  di6tares  of  the  Underftanding.  Temples  have 
**  their  facred  images  ;  and  we  fee  what  influence 
**  they  have  always  had  over  a  great  part  of  man- 
**  kind  ;  but  in  truth,  the  ideas  and  images  in  mens' 
**  minds  are  the  invifible  powers  that  conftantly 
"  govern  them  ;  and  to  thefe  they  all  pay  univerfaU 
**  ly  a  ready  fubmiffion." 

But  whether  this  be  in  a  jufl  conliflence  with 
themfelves,  and  their  own  notions  of  liberty,  I  de- 
fire  may  now  be  impartially  confidered. 

Dr.  Whitby  plainly  fuppofes,  that  the  a6ls  and 
determinations  of  the  Will  always  follow  the  Un- 
derftanding's  apprehenfion  or  view  of  the  greateft 
good  to  be  obtained,  or  evil  to  be  avoided  ;  or,  in 
other  words,  that  the  determinations  of  the  Will 
conftantly  and  infallibly  follow  thefe  two  things  in 
the  Underftanding  :  1.  The  degree  of  good  to  be  ob- 
tained, and  evil  to  be  avoided,  propoltd  to  the  Un- 
derftanding, and  apprehended,  viewed,  and  taken 
notice  of  by  it,  ^.  The  degree  oj  the  UnderJlarJ- 
itig's  vievjj  notice  or  apprehenfion  of  that  good  or 


102  Of  the  Connexion  of  the  Will       Part  II, 

evil ;  »v'hich  is  increafed  by  attention  and  confider- 
aiion.  That  this  is  an  opinion  he  is  exceeding  pe- 
remptory in  (as  he  is  in  every  opinion  which  he 
mai.ntains  in  his  controverfy  with  the  Calvanifs) 
with  dildain  of  the  contrary  opinion  a$  abfurd  and 
feL*^-conrradi6tory,  v/ill  appear  by  the  following 
words  of  his,  in  his  Difcourfe  on  the  Five  Points.* 
*'  Now,  it  is  certain,  that  what  naturally  makes 
**  the  Underflanding  to  perceive,  is  evidence  pro- 
'•  pofed,  and  apprehended,  confidered  or  adverted 
*'  to  :  for  nothing  elfe  can  be  requihte  to  make  us 
**  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  Again,  what 
*'  makes  the  Will  choole,  is  fomething  approved  by 
**  the  Underftanding  ;  and  confequently  appearing 
*'  to  the  foul  as  good.  And  whatfoever  it  refufeth, 
**  is  fomething  rcprefented  by  the  Underftanding^ 
*'  and  fo  appearing  to  the  Will,  as  evil.  Whence 
*'  all  that  God  requires  of  us  is  and  can  be  only 
**  this  ;  to  refufe  the  evil,  and  choofe  the  good. 
**  Wherefore,  to  fay  that  evidence  propofed,  appre- 
*'  bended  and  conlidered,  is  not  fufficient  to  make 
*'  the  Underftanding  approve  ;  or  that  the  greatefl; 
*'  good  propofed,  the  greateft  evil  threatened,  when 
*•'  equally  believed  and  refle6led  on,  is  not  fufficient 
*'  to  engage  the  VViil  to  choofe  the  good  and  re- 
*'  fufe  the  evil,  is  in  efFe6t  to  fay,  that  -which  alone 
*•'  doth  move  the  Will  to  choofe  or  to  refufe,  is  not  fuffi- 
"  cient  to  engage  it  fo  to  do  ;  which  being  contra- 
*'  diftory  to  itfelf,  muft  of  neceffity  be  falle.  Be  it 
"  then  fo,  that  we  naturally  have  an  averfion  to  the 
*'  truths  propofed  to  us  in  the  Gofpel  i  that  only 
**  can  make  us  indifpofed  to  attend  to  them,  but 
'*  cannot  hinder  our  convi6iion,  when  we  do  ap- 
*'  prebend  them,  and  attend  to  them. — Be  it,  that 
*'  there  is  in  us  alfo  a  renitency  to  the  good  we  are 

*  Second  Edit.  p.  211,  21a,  21Q. 


Seft.  IX.         toith  the  Underflanding.  103' 

**  to  choofe  ;  that  only  can  indifpofe  us  to  believe 
**  ic  is,  and  to  approve  it  as  our  chiefefl  good.  Ba 
*'  it,  that  we  are  prone  to  the  evil  that  we  fnoakl 
*'  decline  ;  that  only  can  render  it  the  more  diffi- 
*'  cult  for  us  to  believe  it  is  the  worll  of  ev/ls. 
"  But  yet,  zvhat  we  do  really  believe  to  be  our  chie/rjl 
^^  good,  will  Jlill  be  chojen  ;  and  what  we  apprehend 
'*  to  be  the  loorft  oj  evils,  will,  whilfl  we  do  contimic 
**  under  that  conviilion^  be  rejufed  by  us.  It  therefore 
*'  can  be  only  requifite,  in  order  to  thefe  cndj?,  ihac 
**  the  Good  Spirit  lllould  fo  illuminate  our  Under- 
''  PtandincTs,  that  we  attendincj  to,  and  ccnfidorino- 
**  what  lies  before  us,  fhould  apprehend,  and  be 
*'  convinced  of  our  duty  ;  and  that  the  bleffings  of 
*'  the  Gofpel  fhould  be  fo  propounded  to  us,  as 
^'  that  we  may  difcern  them  to  be  our  chiefefl  good  ; 
*^  and  the  miferies  it  threateneth,  fo  as  we  may  bs 
*'  convinced  that  they  are  the  word  of  evils ;  that 
**  we  may  choofe  the  one,  and  refufe  the  other." 

Here  let  it  be  oblerved,  how  plainly  and  perem- 
torily  it  is  aflferted,  that  the  greatejl  good  propofed, 
and  the  greatcjl  evil  threatened,  when  equally  believed 
and  refiecied  on,  is  fufficient  to  engage  the  Will  to  choofe 
the  good  and  refufe  the  evil,  and  is  that  alone  which 
doth  move  the  Will  to  choofe  or  to  refufe  ;  and  that  it  is 
contraditlory  to  if  elf  to  fappofe  otherwife ;  and  there- 
fore mifl  of  neceffiiy  bcfalfe  ;  and  then  what  we  do  real- 
ly believe  to  he  our  chieffl  good  will  fill  be  ckofen,  and 
what  we  apprehend  to  be  the  worft  of  evils,  wilL  whi^fi 
xve  continue  under  that  conviclion,  he  refufed  by  us. 
Nothing  could  have  been  faid  more  to  the  purpoie, 
fully  to  {igniiy  and  declare,  that  the  determination* 
of  the  Will  muft  evermore  follow  the  illuminarion, 
convidion  and  notice  of  the  Underftanding,  with 
regard  to  the  grcateft  good  and  tvW  propof'ed,  reck- 
oning both  the  degree  of  good  and  evil  undcrffood, 
and  the  degree  of  Underitanding,  notice  and  con- 


104  Of  the  Connexion  oj  the  Will       Part  Ih 

vidion  of  fhat  propofed  good  and  evil  ;  and  that  it 
is  thus  neceflarily,  and  can  be  othervvife  in  no  in- 
flance  :  becaufe  it  is  aflerted,  that  it  implies  a  con- 
traditlion,  to  fuppofe  it  ever  to  be  otherwife. 

I  am  fenlib'e  the  Doctor's  aim  in  thefe  affertions 
is  againfl  the  Calvanifls  ;  to  (hew,  in  oppoiition  to 
them,  that  there  is  no  need  of  any  phyfical  opera- 
tion of  the  Spirit  of  God  on  the  Will,  to  change  and 
determine  that  to  a  good  choice,  but  that  God's  op- 
eration and  afhriance  is  only  moral,  iuggefting  ideas 
to  the  UnderRanding  ;  which  he  fuppotes  to  be  e- 
nough,  if  thofe  ideas  are  attended  to,  infallibly  to 
obtain  the  end.  Bat  whatever  his  defign  was,  noth- 
ing can  more  directly  and  fully  prove,  that  every  de- 
termination of  the  Will,  in  choofing  and  refuhng,  is 
nccejfary  ;  direGly  contrary  to  his  own  notion  of  the 
liberty  of  the  Will.  For  if  the  determination  of  the 
Will,  evermore,  in  this  manner,  follows  the  light, 
convidion  and  view  of  the  Underllanding,  concern- 
ing the  greateft  good  and  evil,  and  this  be  that  alone 
which  moves  the  Will,  and  it  be  a  contraditlion  to 
fuppofe  otherwife;  then  it  is  necejfarily  fo,  the  Will 
neceflarily  follows  this  light  or  view  of  the  Under- 
Handing,  and  not  only  in  fome  of  its  afts,  but  in 
every  atl  of  choofing  and  refufing.  So  that  the  Will 
does  not  determine  ufeif  in  any  one  of  its  own  a61s  ; 
but  all  its  a6ls,  every  a6t  of  choice  and  retufal  depends 
on,  and  is  neceflarily  connedted  with  fome  antecedent 
caufe  ;  which  caufe  is  not  the  Will  itfelf,  nor  any 
a6l  of  its  own,  nor  any  thing  pertaining  to  that  fac- 
ulty, but  fomething  belonging  to  another  faculty, 
whofc  a6ls  go  before  the  Will,  in  all  its  a6is,  and  gov- 
ern and  determine  them  every  one. 

Here,  if  it  fliould  be  replied,  that  although  it  be 
true,  that  according  to  the  Do6lor,  the  final  determi- 
nation of  the  Will  always  depends  upon,  and  is  in- 
fallibly conneded  with  the  Undcrflaiidinn's  coiivic- 


Se£l.  IX.         ivith  /Ae  Underflancling.  105 

tion,  and  notice  of  the  greatefl  good  ;  yet  the  a£ls 
of  the  Will  are  not  necelfary  ;  becaufe  that  convic-» 
tion  and  notice  of  the  Underllanding  is  firfl;  depen- 
dent on  a  preceding  att  of  the  Will,  in  determining 
to  attend  to,  and  take  notice  of  the  evidence  exhibit- 
ed ;  by  which  means  the  mind  obtains  that  degree 
of  convi6lion,  which  is  fufficientand  effedual  to  de- 
termine the  confequent  and  ultimate  choice  of  the 
Will ;  and  that  the  Will,  with  regard  to  that  preced- 
ing act,  whereby  it  determines  whether  to  attend  or 
no,  is  not  neceffary  ;  and  that  in  this,  the  liberty  of 
the  Will  confifts,  that  when  God  holds  forth  fuffi- 
cient  objedive  light,  the  Will  is  at  liberty  whether 
to  command  the  attention  of  the  miad  to  it. 

Nothinrr  can  be  more  weak  and  inconliderate  than 
fuch  a  reply  as  this.  For  that  preceding  ac]:  of  the 
Will,  in  determining  to  attend  and  confider,  iiill  is 
an  a5l  of  the  Will  (it  is  fo  to  be  furc,  if  the  liberty  of 
the  M// confifts  in  it,  as  is  fuppofed)  and  if  it  be  an 
a6t  of  the  Will,  it  is  an  a6i  of  choice  or  refufal.  And 
therefore,  if  what  the  Dodor  aCTerfs  be  true,  it  is  de- 
termined by  fome  antecedent  light  in  the  Under- 
{landing  concerning  the  greateft  apparent  good  or 
evil.  For  he  aflerts,  it  is  that  light  which  alone  doth 
move  the  Will  to  choofe  or  refufe.  And  therefore  the 
Will  muft  be  moved  by  that  in  choofing  to  attend 
to  the  objedtive  light  offered,  in  order  to  another 
confequent  a6l  of  choice ;  fo  that  this  a6l:  is  no  lefs 
neceffary  than  the  other.  And  if  we  fuppofe  another 
adl  of  the  Will,  (till  preceding  both  thefe  mention- 
ed, to  determine  both,  ftill  that  alfo  mud  be  an  a61: 
of  the  Will,  and  an  a£t  of  choice  ;  and  fo  mult,  hy 
the  fame  principles,  be  infallibly  determined  by 
fome  certain  degree  of  light  in  the  Underftanding 
concerning  the  greateft  good.  And  let  us  fuppofe 
as  many  atts  cf  the  W^ill,  one  preceding  another,  as 

Q 


io6  Of  the  Connexion  of  the  Will       Part  IL 

we  pleafe,  yet  they  are  every  one  of  them  necef- 
larily  determined  by  a  certain  degree  of  light  in  the 
Underftanding,  concerning  thegreateft  and  moft  eligi- 
ble good  in  that  cafe  ;  and  fo,  not  one  of  them  free 
according  to  Dr.  Whitby's  notion  of  freedom. — 
And  if  it  be  faid,  the  reafon  why  men  do  not  attend 
to  light  held  forth,  is  becaufe  of  ill  habits  contraded 
by  evil  a6ls  committed  before,  whereby  their  min  ds 
are  indifpofed  to  attend  to,  and  confider  of  the  truth 
held  forth  to  them  by  God,  the  difficulty  is  not  at 
all  avoided  :  ftill  the  queftion  returns,  What  deter- 
mined the  Will  in  thofe  preceding  evil  a6ls  ?  It 
muft,  by  Dr.  Whitby's  principles,  ftill  be  the  view 
of  the  Underftanding  concerning  the  greateft  good 
and  evil.  If  this  view  of  the  Underftanding  be  that 
alone  which  doth  move  the  Will  to  choofe  or  refiife,  as  the 
Do6lor  afferts,  then  every  a6l  of  choice  or  refufal,  from 
a  man's  firft  exiftence,  is  moved  and  determined  by 
this  wiQv^  ;  and  this  view  of  the  Underftanding  ex- 
citing and  governing  the  a6l,  muft  be  before  the  a6l: 
And  therefore  the  Will  is  necelFarily  determined,  in 
every  one  of  its  a6ls,  from  a  man's  firft  exiftence,  by 
a  caufe  befide  the  Will,  and  a  caufe  that  does  not 
proceed  from,  or  depend  on  any  a6l  of  the  Will  at 
all.  Which  at  once  utterly  abolifties  the  Doctor's 
whole  fcheme  of  liberty  of  Will  ;  and  he,  at  one 
ftroke,  has  cut  the  (inews  of  all  his  arguments  from 
the  goodnefs,  righteoufnefs,  faithful  nets  and  finceri- 
ty  of  God,  in  his  commands,  promifes,  threatenings, 
calls,  invitations,  expoftulations  ;  which  he  makes 
ufe  of,  under  the  heads  of  reprobation,  eleflion,  uni- 
verfal  redemption,  fufficient  and  efFe6lual  grace,  and 
the  freedom  of  the  Will  of  man  ;  and  has  enervat- 
ed and  made  vain  all  thofe  exclamations  againft  the 
doftiine  of  the  Calvmijls,  as  charging  God  with 
manifeft  unrighteoufnefs,  unfaithful nefs,  hypocrify, 
fallacioufnefs,  and  cruelty  ;  which  he  has  over,  and 


Seft.  IX.         liiith  the  Underflanding.  107 

over,  and  over  again,  numberlefs  times  in  his  book. 

Dr.  Samuel  Clark,  in  his  Demonflration  of  the 
Being  and  Attributes  of  God,*  to  evade  the  argument 
to  prove  the  neceffity  of  volition,  from  its  necellary 
Connexion  with  the  laft  didate  of  the  Underfland- 
ing, fuppofes  the  latter  not  to  be  diverfe  from  the 
aft  of  the  Will  itfelf.  But  if  it  be  fo,  it  will  not  al- 
ter the  cafe  as  to  the  evidence  of  the  neceffity  of  the 
aa  of  the  Will.  If  the  diftate  of  the  Underftand- 
ing  be  the  very  fame  with  the  determination  of  the 
Will  or  choice,  as  Dr.  Clark  fuppofes,  then  this  de- 
termination is  no  fruit  or  effeB  of  choice  :  and  if  fo,  no 
liberty  of  choice  has  any  hand  in  it ;  as  to  volition 
or  choice,  it  is  neceffary  ;  that  is,  choice  cannot  pre- 
vent it.  If  the  laft  di6late  of  the  Underftanding  be 
the  fame  with  the  determination  of  volition  itfelf, 
then  the  exiftence  of  that  determination  muft  be  ne- 
ceffary as  to  volition  ;  in  as  much  as  volition  can 
have  no  opportunity  to  determine  whether  it  fhall 
exift  or  no,  it  having  exiftence  already  before  voli- 
tion has  opportunity  to  determine  any  thing.  It  is 
itfelf  the  very  rife  and  exiftence  of  volition.  But  a 
thing  after  it  exifts,  has  no  opportunity  to  determine 
as  to  its  own  exiftence  ;  it  is  too  late  for  that. 

If  liberty  coniifts  in  that  which  Arminians  fuppofe, 
viz.  in  the  Will's  determining  its  own  a6ts,  having 
free  opportunity,  and  being  without  all  neceffity  ; 
this  is  the  fame  as  to  fay,  that  liberty  coniifts  in  the 
foul's  having  power  and  opportunity  to  have  what 
determinations  of  the  Will  it  pleafes  or  choofes. 
And  if  the  determinations  of  the  Will,  and  the  laft 
dilates  of  the  Underftanding  be  the  fame  thing, 
then  liberty  confifts  in  the  mind's  having  power 
to  have  what  dilates  of  the  Underftanding  it 
pleafes,  having  opportunity  to  choofe  its  own  dic- 
tates of  Underftanding.     But  this  is  abfurd ;  for  it 

Edit,  VI.  p.  95. 


lo8  Of  the  Connexion  o//^c  Will        Part  11. 

h  to  make  the  determination  of  choice  prior  to  tho 
diftate  of  Underftanding,  and  the  ground  of  it  ; 
which  cannot  conhft  with  thediftateof  Underftand- 
ing's  being  the  determination  of  choice  itfelf. 

Here  is  no  way  to  do  in  this  cafe,  but  only  to  re- 
cur to  the  old  abfurdity  of  one  determination  before 
another,  and  the  caufe  of  it ;  and  another  before  that, 
determining  that  ;  and  fo  on  in  infinitum.  If  the 
laft  di6tate  of  the  Underftanding  be  the  determina- 
tion of  the  Will  itfelf,  and  the  foul  be  free  with  re- 
gard to  that  diftate,  in  the  Arminian  notion  of  free- 
dom ;  then  the  foul,  before  that  di6tate  of  its  Under- 
ftanding exifts,  voluntarily  and  according  to  its  own 
choice  determines,  in  every  cafe,  what  that  diftate  of 
the  Underftanding  (hall  be  ;  otherwife  that  dic- 
tate, as  to  the  Will,  is  neceffary  ;  and  the  a61s 
determined  by  it  muft  alfo  be  neceffary.  So  that 
here  is  a  determination  of  the  mind  prior  to  that 
didate  of  the  Underftanding,  an  aft  of  choice 
going  before  it,  choofing  and  determining  what  that 
diftate  of  the  Underftanding  fhall  be  :  and  this  pre- 
ceding aft  of  choice,  being  a  free  aft  of  Will,  muft 
alfo  be  the  fame  with  another  laft  diftate  of  the  Un- 
derftanding :  and  if  the  mind  alio  be  free  in  that  dic- 
tate of  Underftanding,  that  muft  be  determined  ftill 
by  another  ;  and  fo  on  for  ever. 

Befides,  if  the  diftate  of  the  Underftanding,  and 
determination  of  the  W^ill  be  the  lame,  this  con- 
founds the  Underftanding  and  Will,  and  makes  them 
the  fame.  Whether  they  be  the  fame  or  no,  I  will 
not  now  difpute  ;  but  only  would  obferve,  that  if  it 
be  fo,  and  the  Arminian  notion  of  liberty  confifts  in 
a  felf-dctermining  power  in  the  Underftanding,  free 
of  all  neceflity  ;  being  independent,  undetermined 
by  any  thing  prior  to  its  own  afts  and  determina- 
tions ;  and  the  more  the  Underftanding  is  thus  in- 
jjependent  and  fovereign  oyer  its  own  determinations, 


Se£l.  IX.  zuiih  ihe  Under HdLXiding,  109 

the  more  free.  By  this,  therefore,  the  freedom  of  the 
foul,  as  a  moral  agent,  muR  conftll  in  the  indepen- 
dence of  the  Underflanding  on  any  evidence  or  ap- 
pearance of  things,  or  any  thing  whatfoever,  that 
{lands  forth  to  the  view  of  the  mind,  piior  to  the 
Underftanding's  determination.  And  wiiat  a  fort  of 
liberty  is  this  !  ronfifting  in  an  ability,  freedom  and 
eafinefs  of  judging,  either  according  to  evidence,  or 
againfl  it ;  having  a  fovereign  command  over  itfelf 
at  all  times,  to  judge,  either  agreeably  or  difagreea- 
bly  to  what  is  plainly  exhibited  to  its  own  vie  w. 
Certainly  it  is  no  liberty  that  renders  perfons  the 
proper  fubje6ls  of  perfuafive  reafoning,  arguments, 
expoftulations,  and  fuch  like  moral  means  and  induce- 
ments. The  ufe  of  which  with  mankind  is  a  main 
argument  of  the  Arminians,  to  defend  their  notion  of 
liberty  without  all  necelTity.  For  according  to  this, 
the  more  free  men  are,  the  lefs  they  are  under  the 
government  of  fuch  means,  lefs  fubjeQ  to  the  power 
of  evidence  and  reafon,  and  more  independent  of 
their  influence,  in  their  determinations. 

And  whether  the  Underllanding  and  Will  are  the 
fame  or  no,  as  Dr.  Clark  feems  to  fuppofe,  yet  in  or- 
der to  maintain  the  Arminian  notion  of  liberty  with- 
out neceffity,  the  free  Will  is  not  determined  by  the 
Underllanding,  nor  necefTarily  conneded  with  the 
Underllanding;  and  the  further  from  fuch  Connex- 
ion, the  greater  the  freedom.  And  when  the  liberty 
is  full  and  complete,  the  determinations  of  the  Will 
have  no  Connexion  at  all  with  the  di6lates  of  the 
Underllanding.  And  if  fo,  in  vain  are  all  the  ap- 
plications to  the  Underllanding,  in  order  to  induce 
to  any  free  virtuous  a6l  ;  and  fo  in  vain  are  all  in- 
liru6lions,  counfels,  invitations,  expoftulations,  and 
all  arguments  and  perfuafives  whatfoever  :  for  thele 
are  but  applications  to  the  Underftandmg,  and  a 
clear  and  lively  exhibition  of  the  objeds  of  choicQ 


!!•  A^s  of  the  Will  Part  IL 

to  the  mind's  view.  But  if,  after  all,  the  Will  muft  be 
felf-determined,  and  independent  of  the  Underftand- 
ing,  to  what  purpofe  are  things  thus  reprefented  to  the 
Underftanding.  in  order  to  determine  the  choice  ? 


Section     X. 

Volition  ntccjfarily  conntBtd  with  the  Influence  of  Mo^ 
tives  ;  with  particular  Ohfervations  on  the  great  In^ 
confijlenct  of  Mr,  Chubb^s  Afertions  and  Reafonings, 
about  the  Freedom  of  the  Will, 

1  HAT  every  aft  of  the  Will  has  fome  caufe,  and 
confequently  (by  what  has  been  already  proved)  has 
a  neceffary  connexion  with  its  caufe,  and  fo  is  ne- 
ceffary  by  a  neceffity  of  connexion  and  confequence, 
is  evident  by  this,  that  every  aft  of  the  Will  what- 
foever  is  excited  by  fome  Motive  :  which  is  mani- 
feft,  becaufe,  if  the  Will  or  mind,  in  willing  and 
choofing  after  the  manner  that  it  does,  is  excited  fo 
to  do  by  no  Motive  or  inducement,  then  it  has  no 
end  which  it  propofes  to  itfelf,  or  purfues  in  fo  do- 
ing ;  it  aims  at  nothing,  and  feeks  nothing.  And  if 
it  feeksnothing,  then  it  does  not  go  after  any  thing, 
or  exert  any  inclination  or  preference  towards  any 
thing  :  which  brings  the  matter  to  a  contradiftion  ; 
becaufe  for  the  mind  to  Will  fomething,  and  for  it 
to  go  after  fomething  by  an  aft  of  preference  and 
inclination,  are  the  fame  thing. 

But  if  every  aft  of  the  Will  is  excited  by  a  Mo- 
tive, then  that  Motive  is  the  caufe  of  the  aft  of  the 
Will.  If  the  afts  of  the  Will  are  excited  by  Mo- 
tives, then  Motives  are  the  caufes  of  their  being  ex- 
cited ;  or,  which  is  the  fame  thing,  the  caufe  of  their 
being  put  forth  into  aft  and  exiltence.     And  if  fo. 


Sc61.  X.  €onns5led  xvith  Motivts.  ill 

the  ^xiflence  of  the  a6ls  of  the  Will  is  properly  the 
efFeft  of  their  Motives.  Motives  do  nothing  as  Mo- 
tives or  inducements,  but  by  their  influence  ;  and 
fo  much  as  is  done  by  their  influence  is  the  eff'e6l  of 
them.  For  that  is  the  notion  of  an  eflFeft,  fome- 
thing  that  is  brought  to  pafs  by  the  influence  of 
another  thing. 

And  if  volitions  are  properly  the  efFeds  of  their 
Motives,  then  they  are  necefl'arily  connefted  with, 
their  Motives.  Every  efFeft  and  event  being,  as 
proved  before,  neceflarily  conne6ted  with  that,  which 
is  the  proper  ground  and  reafon  of  its  exiftence. 
Thus  it  is  manitefl:,  that  volition  is  neceff'ary,  and  is 
not  from  any  felf-determining  power  in  the  Will  : 
the  volition,  which  is  caufed  by  previous  Motive 
and  inducement,  is  not  caufed  by  the  Will  exercif- 
ing  a  fovereign  power  over  itfelf,  to  determine,  caufe 
and  excite  volitions  in  itfelf.  This  is  not  confid- 
ent with  the  Will's  a6ting  in  a  fl:ate  of  indiflPerence 
and  equilibrium,  to  determine  itfelf  to  a  preference  ; 
for  the  way  in  which  Motives  operate,  is  by  biafing 
the  Will,  and  giving  it  a  certain  inclination  or  pre- 
ponderation  one  way. 

Here  it  may  be  proper  to  obferve,  that  Mr.  Chubb, 
in  his  Colle6lion  of  Tracts  on  various  fubjefts,  has 
advanced  a  fcheme  of  liberty,  which  is  greatly  di- 
vided againfl:  itfelf,  and  thoroughly  fubverfive  of  it- 
felf; and  that  many  ways. 

I.  He  is  abundant  in  aflerting,  that  the  Will,  in 
all  its  a6ls,  is  influenced  by  Motive  and  excitement; 
and  that  this  is  the  previous  ground  and  reafon  of  all 
its  a6ts,  and  that  it  is  never  otherwife  in  any  in- 
ftance.  He  fays,  (p.  262)  No  aBion  can  take  plaa 
mthoutfome  Motive  to  excite  it.  And  in  p.  263,  Fb- 
lition  cannot  take  place  without  fome  PREVIOUS  reafon 
or  Motive  to  induce  it.  And  in  p.  310,  Action  -would 
not  take  f  lace  mthoutfome  reafon  or  Motive  to  induce  it ; 


112  Inconfijlenct  of  Mr,  Chuhb's         Part  II. 

it  being  abfurd  to  fuppofe^  that  the  aBive  faculty  would  he 
exerted  without  fome  PREVIOUS  reafon  to  difpofe  the 
mind  to  aClion.  So  alfo  p  257.  And  he  fpeaks  of 
thefe  things,  as  what  we  may  be  abfolutely  certain 
of,  and  which  are  the  foundation,  the  only  founda- 
tion we  have  of  a  certainty  of  the  moral  pcrfedions 
of  God.  P.  252,  253,  254,  255,  261,  262,  263, 
264. 

And  yet  at  the  fame  time,  by  his  fcheme,  the  in- 
fluence of  Motives  upon  us  to  excite  to  a6lion,  and 
to  be  adlually  a  ground  of  volition,  is  confequent  on 
the  volition  or  choice  of  the  mind.  For  he  very 
greatly  inGfts  upon  it,  that  in  all  free  aftions,  be- 
fore the  mind  is  the  fubje6l  of  thofe  volitions,  which 
Motives  exciie,  it  choofes  to  be  fo.  It  choofes, 
whether  it  will  comply  with  the  Motive,  which  pre- 
fents  itfelf  in  view,  or  not ;  and  when  various  Mo- 
tives are  prefented,  it  choofes  which  it  will  yield  to, 
and  which  it  will  reje6l.  So  p.  256,  Every  man  has 
power  to  aU,  or  to  refrain  from  atling  agreeably  with,  or 
contrary  to,  any  Motive  that  prefcnts,  P.  257,  Every 
7nan  is  at  liberty  to  aB,  or  refrain  from  aBing  agreeably 
'  with,  or  contrary  to,  what  each  ofthcfe  Motives,  confidercd 
fingly,  would  excite  him  to, — Man  has  power,  and  is  as 
much  at  liberty  to  rejccl  the  Motive  that  does  prevail,  as 
he  has  power,  and  is  at  liberty  to  rejeB  thofe  Motives  that 
do  not.  And  fo  p.  310,  311,  In  order  to  conftitute  a 
moral  agent,  it  is  necejfary,  that  he  fiould  have  power  to 
aBy  or  to  refrain  from  acling,  upon  fuch  moral  Motives 
as  he pleafes.  And  to  the  like  purpole  in  many  oth- 
er places.  According  to  thefe  things,  the  Will  afts 
ill  ft,  and  choofes  or  refufes  to  comply  with  the  Mo- 
tive, that  is  prefented,  before  it  falls  under  its  pre- 
vailing influence  :  and  it  is  firft  deterrnincd  by  the 
mind's  pleafure  or  choice,  what  Motives  it  will  be 
induced  by,  before  it  is  induced  by  them. 

Now,  how  can  thefe  things  hang  together  ?  How 


Se6l.  X.  S chant  of  Liberty,  ^c,  113 

can  the  mind  firfl;  a61:,  and  by  its  a6l  of  volition  and 
choicey  determine  what  Motive  fhall  be  the  ground 
and  reafon  of  its  volition  and  choice  ?  For  this  lup- 
poles  the  choice  is  already  made,  before  the  Motive 
has  its  effed  ;  and  that  the  volition  is  already  ex- 
erted, before  the  Motive  prevails,  fo  as  adlually  to 
be  the  ground  of  the  volition  ;  and  makes  the  pre- 
vailing of  the  Motive,  the  confequence  of  the  voli- 
tion, which  yet  it  is  the  ground  of.  If  the  mind  has 
already  chofen  to  comply  with  a  Motive,  and  to 
yield  to  its  excitement,  it  does  not  need  to  yield 
to  it  after  this :  for  the  thing  is  effected  already, 
that  the  Motive  would  excite  to,  and  the  Will 
is  beforehand  with  the  excitement ;  and  the  excite- 
ment comes  in  too  late,  and  is  needlefs  and  in  vain 
afterwards.  If  the  m.ind  has  already  chofen  to  yield 
to  a  Motive  which  iiivites' io  a  thing,  that  implies, 
and  in  fa6l  is  a  choofing  the  thing  invikd  to;  and 
the  very  a6l  of  choice  is  before  the  influence  of  the 
Motive  which  induces,  and  is  the  ground  of  the  ^ 
choice  ;  the  fon  is  beforehand  with  the  father  that 
begets  him  :  the  choice  is  fuppofed  to  be  the  ground 
of  that  influence  of  the  Motive,  which  very  influ- 
ence is  fuppofed  to  be  the  ground  of  the  choice. 
And  fo  vice  verfa,  the  choice  is  fuppofed  to  be  the 
confequence  of  the  influence  of  the  Motive,  which 
influence  of  the  Motive  is  the  confequence  of  that 
very  choice. 

And  befides,  if  the  Will  aQs  firfi:  towards  tho 
Motive  before  it  falls  under  its  influence,  and  the 
prevailing  of  the  Motive  upon  it  to  induce  it  to  a6t 
and  choofe,  be  the  fruit  and  co!ifequence  of  its  a6fc 
and  choice,  then  how  is  the  Motive  a  PREVIOUS 
ground  and  reafon  of  the  aB  and  choice  fo  that  in  the 
nature  of  the  things,  volition  cannot  take  place  zjithout 
fome  PREVIOUS  reafon  and  Motive  to  induce  it  ;  and 
that  this  a6l  is  confequent  upon,  and  follov;s  the 
Motive  ?  Which  things  Mr,  Chubb  often  afTerts,  as 

R 


114  InConfiJlencc  of  Mr,  Chiihb's         Part  II. 

of  certain  and  undoubted  truth.  So  that  the  very 
fame  Motive  is  both  previous  and  conjequent,  both  be- 
fore and  after,  both  the  ground  and  fruit  of  the  very 
fame  thing  ! 

II.   Agreeable    to  the  forementioned  inconfiftent 
notion  of  the  Will's  firll  atling  towards  the  Motive, 
ehoofing  whether  it  will  comply  with  it*,  in  order  to 
its  becoming  a  ground  of  the  Will's  afting,  before 
any  a6l  of  volition  can  take  place,  Mr.  Chubb  fre- 
quently calls  Motives  and  excitements  to  the  a6lion 
of  the  Will,  the  pajfive.  ground  or  reajon  of  that  a^fion  : 
Which  is  a   remarkable  phrafe  ;   than  which  I  pre- 
fume  there  is  none  more  unintelligible,  and  void  of 
diRin6l  and  confiftent  meaning,  in  all  the  writings 
of  Duns   Scotus,   or  Thomas  Aquinas.     When  he 
reprefents    the   Motive  to  a6lion  or  volition  as  paf- 
five,  he  muft  mean — pailive  in  that  affair,  or  pafTive 
with  refpe£l  to  that  aiSlion  which  he  fpeaks  of ;  oth- 
erwife  it  is  nothing  to  his  purpofe,  or  relating  to  the 
deiign  of  his  argument :  he  mud  mean,  (if  that  can 
be  called  a  meaning)  that  the  Motive  to  volition  is 
firft  aded  upon  or  towards  by  the  volition,  ehoofing 
to  yield  to  it,   making  it  a  ground  of  a6lion,  or  de- 
termining to  fetch  its  influence  from  thence  ;  and 
fo  to  make  it  a  previous  ground  of  its  own  excita- 
tion   and   exilience.     Which  is  the  fame  abfurdity 
as  if  one  (houid   fay,  that  the  foul  of  man,  or  any 
other  thing,  fhould,  previous  to  its  exifting,  choofe 
what  cauie  it  would  come   into   exigence   by,    and 
ftould  a6l  upon  its  cnufe,   to  fetch  influence  from 
thence,    to    bring   it   into   being  ;   and    fo  iis  caufe 
fhould  be  a  paffive  ground  of  its  exiflence  ! 

Mr.  Chubb  does  very  plainly  fuppofe  Motive  or 
excitement  to  be  the  ground  of  the  bang  of  volition. 
He  f  peaks  of  it  as  the  giound  or  reafon  of  the  E  X- 
E  R  T  ION  of  an  a<t  of  the  Will,  p.  391,  and 
392,  and  exprefsly  fays,  that  volition  cannot  TAKE 


Se6l.  X.  Scheme  of  Liberty,  Be.  115 

PLACE  without  fome  previous  ground  or  Motive  to 
induce  it,  p.  363.  And  he  fpeaks  of  the  afcl  as  FROM 
the  Motive,  and  FROM  THE  INFLUENCE  of  the 
Motive,  p.  352,  and  from  the  i:ijlutnct  thai  the  Motive 
has  on  the  7%an,  for  the  FRGDUCTJON  of  an  action, 
p.  317.  Certainly  there  is  no  need  of  multipiymg 
words  about  this  ;  it  is  eafily  jud^^ed.  v/heiher  Mo- 
tive can  be  the  ground  of  volition's  bein^j  exerted 
and  taking  place,  fo  that  the  very  produdion  of  it 
is  from  the  influence  of  the  Motive,  and  yet  the  Mo- 
tive, before  it  becomes  the  ground  of  the  volition,  is 
palTive,  or  aded  upon  by  the  volition.  But  this  I 
will  fay,  that  a  man,  who  infills  fo  much  on  clear- 
nefs  of  meaning  in  others,  and  is  fo  much  in  blam- 
ing their  confufion  and  inconfiftence,  ought,  if  he 
was  able,  to  have  explained  his  meaning  in  this 
phrafe  oi  paffive  ground  of  aHion,  fo  as  to  fhew  it  not 
to  be  confufed  and  inconliilent. 

If  any  Ihould  fuppofe,  that  Mr.  Chubb,  when  he 
fpeaks  of  Motive  as  a  pafjive  ground  of  aBion,  does 
not  mean  palTive  with  regard  to  that  volition  which 
it  is  the  ground  of,  but  fome  other  antecedent  vo- 
lition, (though  his  purpofe  and  argument,  and 
whole  difcourfe,  will  by  no  means  allow  of  fuch  a 
fuppofition)  yet  it  would  not  help  the  matter  in  the 
lea  it.  For,  (1.)  If  we  fuppofe  there  to  be  an  a6i  of 
volition  or  choice,  by  which  the  foul  choofes  to  yield 
to  the  invitation  of  a  Motive  to  another  volition,  by 
which  the  foul  choofes  ibmething  elfe  ;  both  thefe 
fuppofed  volitions  are  in  efFe6l  the  Very  fame.  A 
volition,  or  choofing  to  yield  to  the  force  of  a  Mo- 
tive inviting  to  choofe  fomething,  comes  to  jufl  the 
fame  thing  as  choofing  the  thing,  which  the  Motive 
invites  to,  as  I  obferved  before.  So  that  here  can 
be  no  room  to  help  the  matter,  by  a  dift:in6lion  of 
two  volitions.  (2.)  If  the  Motive  be  paffive  with 
refpe^,  not  to  the  fame  volition  that  the  Motive  ex- 


ii6  Inconfijlcnce  of  Mr.  Ckuhh*s         Part  II, 

cites  to,  but  one  truly  diftin6l  and  prior  ;  yet,  by 
Mr.  Chubb,  that  prior  volition  cannot  take  place, 
without  a  Motive  or  excitement,  as  2i  previous  ground 
of  its  exidence.  For  he  infifts,  that  it  is  abfurd  to 
fuppofe  any  volition  Jhould  take  place  without  fome  previa 
ous  Motive  to  induce  it.  So  that  at  laft  it  comes  to 
juft  the  fame  abfurdity  :  for  if  every  volition  muft 
have  a  previous  Motive,  then  the  very  firfi  in  the 
whole  feries  mufh  be  excited  by  a  previous  Motive  ; 
and  yet  the  Motive  to  that  firft  volition  is  paffive  ; 
but  cannot  be  paffive  with  regard  to  another  ante- 
cedent volition,  becaufe,  by  the  fuppofition,  it  is 
the  very  firft  :  therefore  if  it  be  paffive  with  refpe^l 
to  any  volition,  it  muft  be  fo  with  regard  to  that 
very  volition  that  it  is  the  ground  of,  and  that  is  ex- 
cited hy  it. 

III.  Though  Mr.  Chubb  aflerts,  as  above,  that 
every  volition  has  fome  Motive,  and  that  in  the  na^ 
ture  of  the  thing,  no  volition  can  take  place  without  fome 
Motive  to  induce  it ;  yet  he  afferts,  that  volition  does 
not  always  follow  the  ftrongeft  Motive  ;  or,  in  other 
words,  is  not  governed  by  any  fuperior  ftrength  of 
the  Motive  that  is  followed,  beyond  Motives  to  the 
contrary,  previous  to  the  volition  itfeif.  His  own 
words,  p.  258,  are  as  follow  :  "  Though  with  re- 
**  gard  to  phyfical  caufes,  that  which  is  ftrongeft  al- 
**  ways  prevails,  yet  it  is  otherwife  v;ith  regard  to 
**  moral  caufes.  Of  thcfe,  fometimcs  the  ftronger, 
*'  fometimes  the  weaker,  prevails.  And  the  ground 
*'  of  this  difference  is  evident,  namely,  that  what  we 
'*  call  moral  caufes,  ftriclly  fpeaking,  are  no  caufes 
**  at  all,  but  barely  paffive  rcafons  of,  or  excite- 
*'  mcnts  to  the  a61ion,  or  to  the  refraining  from  a6f- 
*'  ing  :  which  excitements  we  have  power,  or  are  at 
'•'  liberty  to  comply  with  or  reje6l,  as  I  have  ffiewed 
'*  above."  And  fo  throughout  the  paragraph,  he, 
in  a  variety  of  phrafcs,  infifts,  that  the  Will  is   not 


Seft.  X.  Scheme  of  Liberty^  &c.  1 1 7 

always  determined  by  the  ftrongeft  Motive,  unlefs 
by  ftrongeft  we  prepofteroufly  mean  a61ually  pre- 
vailing in  the  event  ;  which  is  not  in  the  Motive, 
but  in  the  Will  ;  but  that  the  Will  is  not  always 
determined  by  the  Motive,  which  is  ftrongeft,  by 
any  ftrength  previous  to  the  volition  itfelp.  And 
he  elfewhere  does  abundantly  aCTert,  that  the  Will 
is  determined  by  no  fuperior  ftrength  or  advantage, 
that  Motives  have,  from  any  conftitution  or  ftate  of 
things,  or  any  circumftances  whatfoever,  previous 
to  the  a61ual  determination  of  the  Will.  And  in- 
deed his  whole  difcourfe  on  human  liberty  implies 
it,  his  whole  fcheme  is  founded  upon  it. 

But  thcfe  things  cannot  ftand  together. — There  is 
fuch  a  thing  as  a  diverfity  of  ftrength  in  Motives  to 
choice,  previous  to  the  choice  itfelf.  Mr.  Chubb 
himfelf  fuppofes,  that  rhey  do  prcvioiijly  invite,  in- 
duce, excite  and  difpofe  the  mind  to  aBion.  This  im- 
plies, that  they  have  fomething  in  themfelves  that 
is  inviting,  fome  tendency  to  induce  and  difpofe  to 
volition,  previous  to  volition  itfelf.  And  if  they 
have  in  themfelves  this  nature  and  tendency,  dcubt- 
lefs  they  have  it  in  certain  limited  degrees,  which 
are  capable  of  diverfity  ;  and  fome  have  it  in  great- 
er degrees,  others  in  lefs  ;  and  they  that  have  moft 
of  this  tendency,  confidered  with  all  their  nature 
and  circumftances,  previous  to  volition,  they  are 
the  ftrongeft  motives  ;  and  tbofe  that  have  leaft,  are 
the  weakeft  Motives. 

Now  if  volition  fometimes  does  not  follow  the 
Motive  which  is  ftrongeft,  or  has  moft  previous  ten- 
dency or  advantage,  all  things  confidered,  to  in- 
duce or  excite  it,  but  follows  the  weakeft,  or  that 
which  as  it  ftands  previoufly  in  the  mind's  vi^w,  has 
leaft  tendency  to  induce  it  ;  herein  the  Will  appar- 
ently a6^s  wholly  without  Motive,  without  any  pre- 
vious reafon  to  difpofe  the  mind  to  it,  contrary  to 
what  the  fame  author  fuppofes.     The  ad,  wherein 


ii8  inconfijlmce  of  Mr,  ChuWs  Part  IL 

the   Will  muft  proceed  without  a  previous  Motive 
to   induce    it,    is  the  a£l  of  preferring  the  weakeft 
Motive.     For  how  abfurdis  it  to  fay,  the  mind  fees 
previous  reafon  in  the  Motive,  to  prefer  that  Motive 
before  the  other  ;  and  at  the  fame  time  to  fuppofe, 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  Motive,    in  its   nature, 
ftate,  or  any  circumftancc  of   it  whatfoever,   as  it 
flands  in  the  previous  view  of  the  mind,  that  gives 
it  any  preference  ;  but  on  the  contrary,    the    other 
Motive   that   (lands  in  competition  with  it,    in  all 
thefe  refpe6ls,  has  mod  belonging  to  it,  that  is  in- 
viting and  moving,  and  has  moft  of  a  tendency  to 
choice   and  preference.     This  is  certainly  as  much 
as  to  fay,   there  is  previous  ground    and   reafon  in 
the  IMotive  for  the  a6l  of  preference,  and  yet  no  pre- 
vious reafon  for  it.      By   the   fuppofition,    as  to  all 
that  is  in  the  two  rival  Motives,  which  tends  to  pre- 
ference, previous  to  the  a6l  of  preference,  it  is  not 
in  that  which  is  preferred,  but  wholly  in  the  other: 
becaufe  appearing  fuperior  flrength,  and  all  appear^ 
ing  preferablenefs  is  in  that ;   and   yet   Mr.   Chubb 
luppofes,  that  the  aft  of  preference  is  from  previous 
ground  and  reafon  in  the  Motive  which  is  preferred. 
But  are  thefe  things  confident  ?    Can  there  be  pre- 
vious ground  in  a  thing  for  an  event  that  takes  place, 
and  yet  no  previous  tendency  in  it  to  that  event  ?  If 
one  thing  follows  another,  without  any  previous  ten- 
dency to  its  following,  then  I  fhould  think  it  very 
plain,  that  it  follows  it  without  any  manner  of  pre- 
vious reafon,  why  it  fhould  follow. 

Yea,  in  this  cafe,  Mr.  Chubb  fuppofes,  that  the 
event  follows  an  antecedent  or  a  previous  thing,  as 
the  ground  of  its  exiflence,  not  only  that  has  7io  t(7u 
dency  to  it,  but  a  contrary  tendency.  The  event  is  the 
preference,  which  the  mind  gives  to  that  Motive, 
which  is  weaker,  as  it  (lands  in  the  previous  view  of 
the  mind  ;  the  immediate  antecedent  is  the  view  the 


ScEt.  X.  Scheme  of  Liberty,  Be,  iig 

mind  has  of  the  two  rival  Motives  conjunflly  ;  in 
which  previous  view  of  the  mind,  all  the  preferablc- 
nefs,  or  previous  tendency  to  preference,  is  fuppof- 
ed  to  be  on  the  other  fide,  or  in  the  contrary  Mo- 
tive ;  and  all  the  unworthinefs  of  preference,  and 
fo  previous  tendency  to  comparative  negle6i,  rejec- 
tion or  undervaluing,  is  on  that  fide  which  is  pre- 
ferred :  and  yet  in  this  view  of  the  mind  is  fuppof- 
ed  to  be  the  previous  ground  or  reafon  of  this  att  of 
preference,  exciting  it,  and  difpofing  the  mind  to  it. 
Which,  1  leave  the  reader  to  judge,  whether  it  be 
abfurd  or  not.  If  it  be  not,  then  it  is  not  abfurd  to 
fay,  that  the  previous  tendency  of  an  antecedent  to 
a  confequent,  is  the  ground  and  reafon  why  that 
confequent  does  not  follow  ;  and  the  want  of  a  pre- 
vious tendency  to  an  event,  yea,  a  tendency  to  the 
contrary,  is  the  true  ground  and  reafon  why  that 
event  does  follow. 

An  a6l  of  choice  or  preference  is  a  comparative 
a6l,  wherein  the  mind  ads  with  reference  to  two  or 
more  things  that  are  compared,  and  (land  in  com- 
petition in  the  mind's  v'iqw.  If  the  mind,  in  this 
comparative  a6t,  prefers  that  which  appears  inferior 
in  the  comparifon,  then  the  mind  herein  a6ls  abfo- 
lutely  without  Motive,  or  inducement,  or  any  tempt- 
ation whatfoever.  Then,  if  a  hungry  man  has  the 
offer  of  two  forts  of  food,  both  which  he  finds  an 
appetite  to,  but  has  a  flionger  appetite  to  one  than 
the  oth«r  ;  and  there  be  no  circumftances  or  excite- 
ments whatfoever  in  the  cafe  to  induce  him  to  take 
either  the  one  or  the  other,  but  merely  his  appetite  :  if 
in  the  choice  he  makes  between  them,  he  choofcs  that, 
which  he  has  leafl  appetite  to,  and  refufes  that,  to 
which  he  has  the  ftrongefl:  appetite,  this  is  a  choice 
mad^  abfolutely  without  previous  Motive,  excite- 
ment, reafon,  or  temptation,  as  much  as  if  he  were 
perfed ly  without  all  appetite  to  either  :  becaufc  his 


120  Inconjijlcnce  of  Mr»  Chubh's  Part  II. 

volition  in  this  cafe  is  a  comparative  a6l,  attending 
and  following  a  comparative  view  of  the  food,  which 
he  choofes,  viewing  it  as  related  to,  and  compared 
with  the  other  fort  of  food,  in  which  view  his  pre- 
ference has  abfolutely  no  previous  ground,  yea,  is 
again  ft  all  previous  ground  and  Motive.  And  if 
there  be  any  principle  in  man,  from  whence  an  a6t 
of  choice  may  arife  after  this  manner,  from  the  fame 
principle  volition  may  arife  wholly  without  Motive 
on  either  lide.  If  the  mind  in  its  volition  can  go 
beyond  Motive,  then  it  can  go  without  Motive  :  for 
when  it  is  beyond  the  Motive,  it  is  out  of  the  reach 
of  the  Motive,  out  of  the  limits  of  its  influence,  and 
fo  without  Motive.  If  volition  goes  beyond  the 
flrength  and  tendency  of  Motive,  and  efpecially  if 
it  goes  againR  its  tendency,  this  demonflrates  the  in- 
dependence of  volition  or  Motive.  And  if  fo,  no 
reafon  can  be  given  for  what  Mr.  Chubb  fo  often 
aflerts,  even  that  in  the  nature  of  things  volition  cannot 
take  place  without  a  Motive  to  induce  it. 

If  the  Mod  High  Ihould  endow  a  balance  with 
agency  or  activity  of  nature,  in  fuch  a  manner,  that 
"when  unequal  weights  are  put  into  the  fcales,  its  a- 
gency  could  enable  it  to  caufe  that  fcale  lo  defcend, 
which  has  the  leafl:  weight,  and  to  raife  the  greater 
weight;  this  would  clearly  demonflrate,  that  the 
motion  of  the  balance  does  not  depend  on  weights 
in  the  fcales,  at  leafl  as  much  as  if  the  balance 
Ihould  move  itfelf,  when  there  is  no  weight  in  either 
fcale.  And  the  a6livity  of  the  balance  which  is 
fuflicient  to  move  itfelf  againft  the  greater  weight, 
mud  certainly  be  more  than  fufficient  to  move  it 
when  there  is  no  weight  at  all. 

Mr.  Chubb  fuppofes,  that  the  Will  cannot  ftir  at 
all  without  fome  Motive  ;  and  alio  fuppofes,  that  if 
there  be  a  Motive  to  one  thing,  and  none  to  the  con- 
trary, volition  will  infallibly  loliow   that  Motive.— 


Se6l.  X.  Scheme  of  Liberty,  &c,  121 

This  is  virtually  to  fuppofe  an  entire  dependence  of 
the  Will  on  Motives  :  if  it  were  not  wholly  depen- 
dent on  them,  it  could  furely  help  itfelf  a  little  with- 
out them,  or  help  itfelf  a  little  jgainft  a  Motive, 
without  help  from  the  ftrength  and  weight  of  a  con- 
trary Motive.  And  yet  his  fuppofing  that  the  Will, 
when  it  has  before  it  various  oppofite  Motives,  can 
ufe  them  as  it  pleafes,  and  choofe  its  own  influence 
from  them,  and  neglect  the  ftrongeft,  and  follow  the 
weakeft,  fuppofes  it  to  be  wholly  independent  on 
Motives. 

It  further  appears,  on  Mr.  Chubh's  fuppofition, 
that  volition  mufl  be  without  any  previous  ground 
in  any  Motive,  thus  :  if  it  be,  as  he  fuppofes,  that 
the  Will  is  not  determined  by  any  previous  fuperior 
flrengj-h  of  the  Motive.,  but  deterniines  and  choofes 
its  own  Motive,  then,  when  the  rival  Motives  are  ex- 
adly  equal  in  ftrength  and  tendency  to  induce,  in  all 
rerpe6ls,  it  may  follow  either  ;  and  may  in  fuch  a 
cafe,  fometimcs  follow  one,  foineiirnes  the  other. — 
And  if  fo,  this  diverfity  which  appears  between  the 
a£ls  of  the  Will,  is  plainly  without  previous  ground 
in  either  of  the  Motives  ;  for  all  that  is  previoufly  in 
the  Motives,  is  fuppofed  precifely  and  perfe6liy  the 
fame,  without  any  diverfity  whatfoever.  Now  per- 
fect identity,  as  to  ail  that  is  previous  in  the  antece- 
dent, cannot  be  the  ground  and  reafon  of  diverfity 
in  the  confequent.  Perfefl  identity  in  the  ground 
cannot  be  tiie  reafon  w^hy  it  is  not  followed  with  the 
fame  confequence.  And  therefore  the  fcurceof  this 
diverfuy  of  confequence  nmfl:  be  fought  for  elfe- 
where. 

And  lafLly,  it  may  be  obfervcd,  that  however  ]VIr. 
Clxubb  docs  much  infill  that  no  volition  can  take 
place  without  fome  Motive  to  induce  it,  which  pre- 
vioufly difpofes  the  mind  to  it ;  yet,  as  he  alfo  infifls 
that   the   mind,    without    reference  to  any  fuperior 


12  2  Inconfificnce  cj  Mr,  Chuhh*s  Part  II. 

fliength  of  Motives,  picks  and  ch^ofes  for  its  Motive 
to  follow  ;  he  himfeif  herein  plainly  fuppofes,  that 
with  regard  lo  the  mind*s  preference  of  one  Motive 
before  another,  it  is  not  the  Motive  that  difpofes  the 
Will,  but  the  Will  difpofes  itfelf  to  follow  the  Motive. 
IV.  Mr.  Chubb  fuppofes  neceffity  to  be  utterly 
inconfiflent  with  ^p-^«cjy  ;  and  that  to  fuppofe  a  be- 
ins  to  be  an  aj^ent  in  that  which  is  necelTarv,  is  a 
plain  contradi6^ion.  P.  31 1,  and  throughout  his  dif- 
courfes  on  the  fubje6l  of  liberty,  he  fuppofes,  that 
neceluty  cannot  confift  with  agency  or  freedom  ;  and 
that  to  fuppofe  otherwifc,  is  to  make  liberty  and 
neceffity,  a6lion  and  pafiion,  the  fame  thing.  And 
fo  he  feenis  to  fuppofe,  that  there  is  no  a6lion,  ilri6l- 
ly  fpeaking,  but  volition;  and  that  as  to  the  effe6ls 
of  volition  in  body  or  mind,  in  themfclves  confider- 
ed,  being  neceliary,  they  are  faid  to  be  fise,  only  as 
they  are  the  efFeQs  of  an  a6l  that  is  not  necefiary. 

And  yet,  according  to  him,  volition  itfelf  is  the 
tff^B  of  volition  ;  yea,  every  a6tof  free  volition  :  and 
therefore  every  a6l  of  free  volition  mud,  by  what 
has  now  been  obferved  from  him,  be  neceffary. — 
That  every  a6l  of  free  volition  is  itfelf  the  efFe6l  of 
volition,  is  abundantly  fuppofed  by  him.  In  p.  341, 
he  fays,  "If  a  man  is  fuch  a  creature  as  I  have  prov- 
*•  ed  him  to  be,  that  is,  if  he  has  in  him  a  power  or 
**  liberty  of  doing  either  good  or  evil,  and  either  of 
**  thefe  is  the  fubjeO;  of  his  own  free  choice,  fo  that 
*'  he  might,  IF  HE  HAD  PLEASED,  have  CHOS- 
**  EN  and  done  the  contrary."  Here  he  fuppofes, 
all  that  is  good  or  evil  in  man  is  the  effetl  of  his 
choice  ;  and  fo  that  his  good  or  evil  choice  itfelf,  is 
the  efFc6l  of  his  pleafure  or  choice,  in  (hefe  words, 
ht  might,  if  he  had  PLEASED,  have  CHOSEN  the 
contrary.  So  in  p.  356,  "Though  it  be  highly  reaf- 
**  onable,  that  a  man  Ihould  always  choofe  the  great- 
**  er  good--yet  he  may,  if  he  PLEASE,  CHOOSE 


Se£l.  X.  Scheme  of  Liberty,  &c.  123 

*«  otherwife/*  Which  is  the  fame  thing  as  if  he  had 
faid,  he  may,  if  he  choofes,  choofc  otherwife.  And  then 
he  goes  on — **  that  is,  he  may,  if  he  ptcafes^  choofe 
*'  what  is  good  for  himfelf,"  &c.  And  again  in  the 
fame  page,  *'  The  Will  is  not  confined  by  the  un- 
"  del  {landing,  to  any  particular  fort  of  good,wheth- 
•*  er  greater  or  lefs  ;  but  is  at  liberty  to  choofe  what 
*'  kind  of  good  it  pleafes" — If  there  be  any  meaning 
in  the  laft  words,  the  meaning  mull  be  this,  that  the 
Will  is  at  liberty  to  choofe  what  kind  of  good  it  choofes  to 
choofe  ;  fuppofing  the  a6l  of  choice  itfelf  determined 
by  an  antecedent  choice.  The  liberty  Mr.  Chubb 
fpeaks  of,  is  not  only  a  man's  having  power  to  move 
his  body  agreeably  to  an  antecedent  a6l  of  choice, 
but  to  ufe,  or  exert  the  faculties  of  his  foul.  Thus, 
in  p.  379,  fpeaking  of  the  faculties  of  his  mind,  he 
fays,  *-Man  has  power,  and  is  at  liberty  to  negle6l 
**  thefe  faculties,  to  ufe  them  aright,  or  to  abufe 
*'  them,  as  he  pleafes,"  And  that  he  fuppofes  an  a6fc 
of  choice,  or  exercife  of  pleafure,  properly  diftindl; 
from,  and  antecedent  to,  thofe  a6ls  thus  chofen,  di- 
re6ling,  commanding  and  producing  the  chofen  a6ls, 
and  even  the  a6ls  of  choice  themfelves,  is  very  plain 
in  p.  283,  "  He  can  command  his  aBions ;  and  here- 
*•'  in  coniifls  his  liberty;  he  can  give  or  deny  him- 
*•*  felf  that  pleafure,  as  he  pleafes!'  And  p.  377, 
**  If  the  a61ions  of  men  are  not  the  produce  of  a  free 
*'  choice,  or  eledion,  but  fpring  from  a  neceffity  of 
**  nature,  he  cannot  in  reafon  be  the  objecl  of  re- 
*'  ward  or  punifhment  on  their  account.  Where- 
*'  as,  if  adlion  in  man,  whether  good  or  evil,  is  the 
^'produce  of  V/ill  or  free  choice;  fo  that  a  man  in  ei- 
'•  ther  cafe,  had  it  in  his  power,  and  was  at  liberty 
*''  to  have  CHOSEN  the  contrary,  he  is  the' proper 
"  objedl  of  reward  or  punifhment,  according  as  he 
''  CHOOSES  to  behave  himfelf."  Here,  in  thefe 
laa  words,  he  fpeaks  of  liberty  of  CHOOSING,  ac^ 


124  Inconfijlcnce  of  Mr,  Chubh's         Part  II. 

cording  as  he  CHOOSES.  So  that  the  behaviour 
which  he  fpeaks  of  as  fubjcCl  to  his  choice,  is  his 
choofing  itlclf,  as  well  as  his  external  conduct  confe- 
quent  upon  it.  And  therefore  it  is  evident,  he  means 
not  only  extern^il  aftions,  but  the  a6ts  of  choice 
themfelves,  when  he  fpeaks  of  all  free  anions,  as  the 
PRODUCE  of  free  choice.  And  this  is  abundantly 
evident  in  what  he  fays  in  p.  ^72,  373. 

Now  thefe  things  ij;^ply  a  twofold  great  abfurdity 
and  inconfi Hence. 

J.  To  fuppofe,  as  Mr.  Chubb  plainly  docs,  that 
every  free  a6t  of  choice  is  commaiided  by,  and  is  the 
produce  of  free  choice,  is  to  fuppofe  the  firfl:  free  aO: 
of  choice  belonging  to  the  cafe,  yea,  the  firlt  free 
a6l  of  choice  that  ever  man  exerted,  to  be  the  produce 
of  an  antecedent  a£l  of  choice.  But  I  hope  I  need 
not  labor  at  all  to  convince  my  readers,  that  it  is  an 
abfurdity  to  fay,  the  very  firft  a£l  is  the  produce  of 
another  a6l  that  went  before  it. 

2.  If  it  were  both  poffible  and  real,  as  Mr.  Chubb 
infifts,  that  every  free  aft  of  choice  were  the  produce 
or  the  cffe6l  of  a  free  aft  of  choice  ;  yet  even  then,  ac- 
cording to  his  principles,  no  one  aft  of  choice  would 
be  free,  but  every  one  neceffary  ;  becaufe,.  every  aft  of 
choice  being  the  effeft  of  a  foregoing  aft,  every  aft 
would  be  neceflfarily  connefted  with  that  foregoing 
caufe.  For  Mr.  Chubb  himfelf  fays,  p.  389,  *•  When 
"  the  felf-moviog  power  is  exerted,  it  becomes  the 
**  neceffary  caufe  of  its  effefts."r — So  that  his  no- 
tion of  a  fr«e  aft,  that  is  rewardabie  or  punifliable, 
is  a  heap  of  contradiftioos.  It  is  a  free  aft,  and  yet, 
by  his  own  notion  of  freedom,  is  necellary  ;  and 
therefore  by  him  it  is  a  contradiftion,  to  fuppofe  it 
to  be  free.  According  to  him,  every  free  aft  is  the 
produce  of  a  free  aft  ;  fo  that  there  muft  be  an  in- 
finite number  of  free  afts  in  fuccefhon,  without  any 
beginning,  in  an  agent  that  has  a  beginning.     And 


Se6l.  X.  Scheme  oj  Liberty,  &c.  125 

therefore  here  is  an  infinite  number  of  free  a6ls,  every 
one  of  them  free  ;  and  yQt  not  one  of  them  free,  but 
every  aft  in  the  Vi/hole  infinite  chain  a  necelTary  ef- 
fect. All  the  a6ls  are  rewardable  or  punifhable,  and 
yet  the  agent  cannot,  in  reafon,  be  the  objeft  of  re- 
ward or  punifhment,  on  account  of  any  one  of  thefe 
a6lions.  He  is  a6tivc  in  them  ail,  and  paflTive  in 
none  ;  yet  a6livc  in  none,  but  paflive  in  all,  &c, 

V.  Mr.  Chubb  does  mod  ftrenuoufly  deny,  that 
Motives  are  caitfes  of  the  afts  of  the  Will ;  or  that  the 
moving  principle  in  man  is  moved,  or  §aiifed  to  be  ex^ 
cried  by  Motives.  His  words,  p.  388  and  389,  are, 
**  If  the  moving  principle  in  man  is  MOVED,  or 
''  CAUSED  TO  I3E  Ej^ERTED,  by  fomethmg  ex- 
"  ternal  to  man,  which  all  Motives  are,  then  it  would 
*'  not  be  a  fclf- moving  principle,  feeing  it  would  be 
"  moved  by  a  principle  external  to  itfelf.  And  to 
**  fay,  that  a  felf-moving  principle  is  MOVED,  or 
*'  CAUSED  TO  BE  EXERTED,  by  a  caufe  exier- 
"  nal  to  itfelf,  is  abfurd  and  a  contradi6tion/'  &c. 
And  in  the  next  page,  it  is  particularly  and  largely 
infilled,  that  Motives  are  caufes  in  no  cafe,  that  they 
are  7nerdy  paffive  in  the  produBion  oJ  aBion,  and  have 
no  caufality  in  the  frodudion  of  it  ;  no  caiifality,  to  be 
the  caufe  of  the  exertion  of  the  Will. 

Now  I  defire  it  may  be  confidered,  how  this  can 
poflibly  confifl  with  what  he  fays  in  other  places. 
Let  it  be  noted  here, 

1.  Mr.  Chubb  abundantly  fpeaks  of  Motives  as 
excitevients  of  the  aEs  of  the  Will ;  and  fays,  that  Mo- 
tives do  excite  volition,  and  induce  it,  and  that  they  are 
necelTary  to  this  end  ;  that  in  the  reafon  and  nature  of 
things,  volition  cannot  take  place  without  Motives  to  ex- 
cite if.  But  now,  if  Motives  excite  the  Will,  they 
move  it ;  and  yet  he  fays,  it  is  abfurd  to  fay,  the  Will 
is  moved  by  Motives.  And  again,  (if  language  is  of 
any  fignihcancy  at  all)    if  Motives  excite  volition, 


126  Inconfijience  of  Mr,  Chuhh's         Part  II, 

then  they  are  the  caiife  of  its  being  excited  ;  and  to 
caul'e  volition  to  be  excitea,  is  to  caufe  it  to  be  put 
forth  or  exerted.  Yea,  Mr.  Chubb  Tays  himfelf,  p. 
317,  Motive  is  necelfary  to  the  exertion  of  the  adlive 
faculty.  To  excite,  is  pofitiveiy  to  do  fomething  ; 
and  certainly  that  which  does  fomething,  is  the  caufe 
of  the  thing  done  by  it.  To  create,  p.s  to  caufe  to  be 
created  ;  to  make,  is  to  caufe  to  be  made  ;  to  kill,  is 
to  caufe  to  be  killed  ;  to  quicken,  is  to  caufe  to  be 
quickened  ;  and  to  excite,  xs  to  caufe  to  he  excited.  To  ' 
excite,  is  to  be  a  caufe,  in  the  mofl  proper  fenfe, 
not  merely  a  negative  occafion,  but  a  ground  of  ex- 
iftence  by  pofitive  influence.  The  notion  of  excit- 
ing, is  exerting  influence  to  caufe  the  efFecl  to  arife 
or  come  forth  into  exiflence. 

2.  Mr.  Chubb  himfelf,  p.  317,  fpeaks  of  Motives 
as  the  ground  andreafon  of  a6lionBY  INFLUENCE, 
and  BY  PREVAILING  INFLUENCE.  Now, 
what  can  be  meant  by  a  caufe,  but  fomething  that 
is  the  ground  and  rcafon  of  a  thing  by  its  influence, 
an  influence  that  is  prevalent  and  fo  effeftual  ? 

3.  This  author  not  only  fpeaks  of  Motives  as  the 
ground  andreafon  of  a61ion,  by  prevailing  influence; 
but  exprefslv  of  their  infuence  as  prevailing  FOR 
THE  PRODUCTION  of  an  adion,  in  the  famfi  p. 
317  :  which  makes  the  inconfiftency  flill  more  pal- 
pable and  notorious.  The  production  of  an  efFe6l 
is  certainly  the  caifmg  of  an  efFe6l  ;  and  produElive 
influence  is  caufal  infuence,  if  any  thing  is  ;  and  that 
which  has  this  influence  prevalently,  fo  as  thereby  to 
become  the  ground  of  another  thing,  is  a  caufe  of 
that  thing,  if  there  be  any  fuch  thing  as  a  caufe. 
This  influence,  Mr.  Chubb  fays.  Motives  have  to 
produce  an  a6lion  ;  and  yet,  he  fays,  it  is  abfurdr 
and  a  contradiction,  to  fay  they  are  caufes. 

4.  In  the  fame  page,  he  once  and  again  fpeaks  of 
Motives  as  dfpofmg  the  agent  to  a£fion,  by  their  in* 


Se6l.  X.  Scheme  of  Liberty,  3c.  127 

fluencc.  His  words  are  thefe  :  **  As  Motive,  which 
**  takes  place  in  the  underftanding,  and  is  the  pro- 
*»  dua  of  intelligence,  is  NECESSARY  to  aaion, 
*'  that  is,  to  the  EXERTION  of  the  aQive  faculty, 
**  becaufe  that  faculty  would  not  be  exerted  without 
*'  fome  PREVIOUS  REASON  to  DISPOSE  the 
*«  mind  to  a^ion  ;  fo  from  hence  it  plainly  appears, 
*'  that  when  a  man  is  laid  to  be  difpojed  to  one  ac- 
**  tion  rather  than  another,  this  properly  fignifies 
»*  the  PREVAILING  INFLUENCE  that  one  Mo- 
*'  tive  has  upon  a  man  FOR  THE  PRODUCTION 
''  of  an  aaion,  or  for  the  being  at  reft,  before  all 
♦'  other  Motives,  for  the  production  of  the  contrary. 
*'  For  as  Motive  is  the  ground  and  reafon  of  any 
''  aaion,  fothe  Motive  thAt prevails,  DISPOSES  the 
'*  agent  to  the  performance  of  that  aaion." 

Now,  if  Motives  difpofe  the  mind  to  aaion,  then 
they  caufe  the  mind  to  be  difpofed  ;  and  to  caufe  the 
mind  to  be  difpofed  is  to  caufe  it  to  be  v/illing  ;  and 
to  caufe  it  to  be  willing  is  to  caufe  it  to  Will  ;  and 
that  is  the  fame  thing  as  to  be  the  caufe  of  an  aa  of 
the  Will.  And  yet  this  fame  Mr.  Chubb  holds  it  to 
be  abfurd.  to  fuppofe  Motive  to  be  a  caufe  of  the  a£l 
of  the  Will. 

And  if  we  compare  thefe  things  together,  we  have 
here  again  a  whole  heap  of  inconunencies.  Motives 
are  the  previous  ground  and  reafon  of  the  aas  of  the 
Will  ;  yea,  the  necejfary  ground  and  reafon  of  their 
exertion,  tuithcut  which  ihcy  will  not  he  exerted,  and  can- 
not, in  the  nature  of  things,  take  place  ;  and  they  do  ex- 
cite  thefe  aas  of  the  Will,  and  do  this  by  a  prevailing 
injluence  ;  yea,  an  injluence  which  prevails  for  the  pro- 
dudion  of  the  aH  of  the  Vv^ill,  and  for  the  aifpofing  of 
the  viind  to  it  ;  and  yet  it  is  ahfnrd  to  fuppofe  Motive 
to  he  a  caufe  of  an  aa  of  the  Will,  or  that  a  principle 
of  Will  is  moved  or  caifed  to  be  exerted  by  it,  or  that  it 
has  any  caufalUy  in  the  produBion  ofity  or  ary  caufalily 
to  he  the  caufe  of  the  exertion  of  the  IVilL 


128  GOD  certainly  foreknows  Part  II. 

A  due  confideration  of  thefe  things  which  Mr. 
Chubb  has  advanced,  the  (Irange  inconhllencies 
v/hich  the  notion  of  liberty,  confifting  in  the  Will's 
power  of  felf- determination  void  of  all  necellity, 
united  with  that  di6late  of  common  fenfe,  that  there 
can  be  no  volition  without  a  Motive,  drove  him  into, 
may  be  fuflkicnt  to  convince  us,  that  it  is  utterly 
impofhble  ever  to  make  that  notion  of  liberty  con- 
iiilent  with  the  influence  of  Motives  in  volition.  And 
as  it  is  in  a  manner  felf-evidcnt,  that  there  can  be  no 
a6i;  of  Will,  choice,  or  preference  of  the  mind,  with- 
out fame  Motive  or  inducement,  fomething  in  the 
mind's  view,  Vv^hich  it  aims  at,  feeks,  inclines  to,  and 
goes  after ;  fo  it  is  mofl  manifeft,  there  is  no  fuch 
liberty  in  the  univerfe  as  Arminians  infifl;  on;  nor 
any  luch  thing  poflible,  or  conccivajble. 


E   c   T    I   o    N      XL 


The  Evideiice  of  GOD's  certain  Foreknowledge  of  the 

Volitions  of  moral  Agents, 


1  HAT  the  afts  of  the  Wills  of  moral  agents  are  not 
contingent  events^  in  that  fenfe,  as  to  be  without  all 
neceffity,  appears  by  God's  ceitain  foreknowledge  of 
fuch  events. 

In  handling  this  argument,  I  would  in  the  Jirjh 
place  prove,  that  God  has  a  certain  foreknowledge 
of  the  voluntary  a£ls  of  moral  agents ;  and  fcconJh, 
Ihcw  the  confequence,  or  how  it  follows  from  hence, 
that  the  volitions  of  moral  agents  are  not  continaent, 
fo  as  to  be  without  neceffity  of  connexion  and  con- 
fequence. 

First,  I  am  to  prove,  that  God  has  an  abfolute 
and  certain  forekno.wlcdge  of  the  free  adions  of 
moral  agents. 


Se6l.  XI.       the  Volitions  of  7naral  Agents.  123 

One  would  think,  it  fhould  bs  wholly  necdlefs  to 
enter  on  fuch  an  argunxent  with  any  that  profefs 
then^felves  chriftians  :  but  fo  it  is  ;  God's  certain 
foreknowledge  of  the  free  ads  of  moral  agents,  is /de- 
nied by  fome  that  pretend  to  believe  the  fciiptures 
to  be  the  ward  of  God  ;  and  efpccially  of  late.  I 
therefore  (liall  confider  the  evidence  of  fuch  a  pre- 
fcience  in  the  Moft  High,  as  fully  as  the  defigned 
limits  of  this  efl'ay  will  admit  of;  fuppofing  myfelf 
herein  to  have  to  do  with  fuch  as  own  the  truth  of 
the  bible. 

Arg.  I.  My  Jirjl  argument  fliall  be  taken  from 
God's  prediction  oi  fuch  events.  Here  I  would,  ia 
the  firli  place,  lay  down  thefe  two  things  as  axioms. 

(1.)  If  God  does  not  foreknow,  he  cannot  fore- 
tell fuch  events  ;  that  is,  he  cannot  peremtorily  and 
certainly  foretell  them.  If  God  has  no  more  than 
an  uncertain  guefs  concerning  events  of  this  kind, 
then  he  can  declare  no  more  than  an  uncertain  guefs. 
Pofiiively  to  foretell^  is  to  profcfs  to  foreknow,  or 
declare  pofitive  foreknowledge. 

(2.)  If  God  does  not  certainly  foreknow  the  fu- 
ture volitions  of  moral  agents,  then  neither  can  he 
certainly  foreknow  thofe  events  which  are  confequent 
and  dependent  on  thefe  volitions.  The  exiftence  of 
the  one  depending  on  the  exiftence  of  the  other,  the 
knowledge  of  the  exiftence  of  the  one  depends  on 
the  knowledge  of  the  exiftence  of  the  other  ;  and 
the  one  cannot  be  more  certain  than  the  other. 

Therefore,  how  many,  how  grea?-,  and  how  exten- 
five  foever  the  confequences  of  the  volitions  of  mor- 
al agents  may  be  ;  though  they  fhould  extend  to  an 
alt.eration  of  the  ftate  of  things  through  the  univerfe, 
and  ftiould  be  continued  in  a  ferics  of  fuccellive 
events  to  all  eternity,  and  fhould  in  the  progrefs  of 
things  branch  forth  into  an  infinite  number  of  ferics, 
each  of  them  goin^^  on  in  an  endlefs  line  or  chain 


130  GOD  certainly  (orcknows  Part  II. 

of  events  :  God  muft  be  as  ignorant  of  all  thefe  con- 
fequences,  as  he  is  of  the  volitions  whence  they  firft 
take  their  rife  :  all  thefe  events,  and  the  whole  (late 
of  things  depending  on  them,  how  important,  exten- 
iive  and  vaft  foever,  niafh  be  hid  from  him. 

Thefe  pofitions  being  fach  as,  1  fuppofe,  none 
will  deny,  I  now  proceed  to  obf»rve  the  following 
things. 

1.   Men's  moral  concuQ  and  qualities,  their   vir- 
tues and  vices,    their   wickednefs  and  good  praQice, 
things   rewardable  and  punifhable,   have  often  been 
foretold  by  God. — Pharaoh's  moral  condu6l,  in  re- 
fufing  to  obey  God'?=  command,  in  letting  his  people 
go,  was  foretold.     God  fays  to  Mofes,  Exod.  iii.  19, 
/  am  Jure,  that  the  King  of  Egypt  will  not  Id  you  go. 
Here  God  profeffes  not  only  to  guefs  at,  but  to  know 
Pharaoh's  future  difobedience.     In  chap.  vii.  4,  God 
fays,  but  Pharaoh  /hall  not  hearken  unto  you  ;  that  I  may 
lay  mine  hand  upon  Egyp^t,  Sec.     And  chap.   ix.    30, 
Mofes  fays  to  Pharaoh,  as  for  thee,  and  ihyfervantSy  I 
KNOW  that  ye  will  not  fear  the  Lord.     See  alfo  chap, 
xi.  g. — The  moral  condu61:  of  Jofiah,    by  name,  in 
his  zealoufly  exerting  himfelf  in  oppofition  to  idol- 
atry, in  particular  a6ts  of  his,   was   foretold  above 
three  hundred  years  before  he  wa5   born,    and  the 
prophecy  fealed  by  a  miracle,  and  renewed  and  con- 
firmed by  the  words  of  a  fecond   prophet,  as  what 
furely  would  not  fail,  1  Kings  xiii.  J — 6,  32.     This 
prophecy  was  alfo  in  effeO;  a  prediftion  of  the  moral 
condu6l  of  the  people,  in  upholding  their  fchifmati- 
cal  and  idolatrous  worQiip  until  that  time,   and  the 
idolatry  of  thofe  priefls  of  the  high  places,   which  it 
is   foretold    ]oliah    fliould   offer  upon  that  altar  of 
Kethel. — Micaiah  foretold  the  foolilh  and  linful  con- 
duct of  Ahab.  in  refuting  to  hearken  to  the  word  of 
the  Lord  by  him,  and  choofing  rather  to  hearken  to 
the  falfe  prophets,  in  going  to  Ramoth-Gilead  to  hi's 


Se6l.  XI.       ike  Volitions  of  moral  Agents,  131 

ruin,  I  Kings  xxi.  20 — 22.  The  rp.oral  con.duO:  of 
Hazael  was  foretold,  in  that  cruelty  he  (liould  be 
guilty  of;  on  which  Hazael  fays,  What,  is  ihyfervant 
a  dog\  that  he  Jhculd  do  this  thing  !  The  prophet  fpcaks 
of  the  event  as  what  he  knew,  and  not  what  he  con- 
jeftured,  2  Kings  viii.  12.  /  know  the  evil  that  thou 
wilt  do  unto  the  children  of  Ifrael :  Thou  wilt  dajh  their 
children,  and  rip  up  their  women  with  child.  The 
moral  conda6l  of  Cyrus  is  foretold,  long  before  he 
had  a  being,  in  his  mercy  to  God's  people,  and  re- 
gard to  the  true  God,  in  turning  the  captivity  of  the 
jews,  and  promoting  the  building  of  the  Temple, 
ifai.  xliv.  28.  and  Ixv.  13.  Compare  2  Chron. 
xxxvi.  22.  23.  and  Ezra  i.  1 — 4.  How  many  in- 
(tances  of  the  moral  condu6l  of  the  Kings  of  the  North 
and  South,  particular  inftanccs  of  the  wicked  behav- 
ior of  the  Kings  of  Syria  and  Egypt,  are  foretold  in 
the  xith  chapter  of  Daniel  ?  Their  corruption,  vio- 
lence, robbery,  treachery,  and 'lies.  And  particu- 
larly, how  much  is  foretold  of  the  horrid  wickednefs 
of  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  called  there  a  vile  perfon, 
inftead  of  Epiphanes,  orilluRrious.  In  that  chap- 
ter, and  alfo  in  chap.  viii.  verfes  9,  14,  23,  to  the 
end,  are  foretold  his  flattery,  deceit  and  lies,  his  hav- 
ing his  heart  ftt  to  do  mifchief,  and  fet  againft  the  holy 
covenant,  his  defiroying  and  treading  under  foot  the  holy 
people,  in  a  marvellous  manner,  his  having  indigna^ 
tion  againfl  the  holy  covenant,  fettin^  his  heart  againfi  it, 
and  confpiring  agairfi  it,  his  polluting  the  faniluary  of 
flrength,  treading  it  under  foot,  taking  aiuay  the  daily 
facrifcc,  and  placing  the  abomination  that  makcth  defo^ 
late  ;  his  great  pride,  magnifying  himfelf  againji  God, 
and  uttering  marvellous  hlafphemies  ai^ainfl  him,  until 
God  in  indignation  fiould  dcflroy  him.  Withal,  the 
moral  conduQ;  of  the  Jews,  on  occafion  of  his  per- 
fecution,  is  predi£led.  It  is  foretold,  tha^t  he  fhould 
corrvpt  many  by  flatteries,  chap.  xi.  .32 — 3  j..     1^'^t  that 


132  GOD  arlainly  foreknows  Part  II. 

others  fhould  behave  with  a  glorious  conflancy  and 
fortitude  in  op^x^fition  to  him,  ver.  32.  And  that 
iome  good  men  fhould  fajl  and  repent,  ver.  35. 
Chrifl;  foretold  Peter's  fin,  in  denying  his  Lord,  with 
its  circumftances,  in  a  peremptory  manner.  And  fo, 
that  great  fin  of  Judas,  in  betraying  his  mafter,  and 
its  dreadful  and  eternal  punifhment  in  hell,  was  fore- 
told in  the  like  pofitive  manner,  Mat.  xxvi.  21 — 25, 
^nd  pareliel  places  in  the  other  Evangelifts. 

2.  Many  events  have  been  foretold  by  God,  which 
are  confequetitt  and  dependent  on  the  moral  condudl; 
of  particular  pcrfons,  and  were  accomplifhed,  cither 
by  their  virtuous  or  vicious  actions. — Thus,  the 
children  of  Ifreal's  going  down  into  Egypt  to  dwell 
there,  was  foretold  to  Abraham,  Gen.  xv.  which  was 
brought  about  by  the  wickednefs  of  Jofeph's  breth- 
ren in  felling  him,  and  the  wickednefs  of  Jofeph's 
miftrefs,  and  his  ovyn  fignal  virtue  in  refilling  her 
temptation.  The  accamplifhment  of  the  thing  pre- 
figured in  Jofeph's  dream,  depended  on  the  fame 
moral  condu6l.  Jotham's  parable  and  prophecy, 
Judges  ix.  15 — 20,  was  accomplifhed  by  the  wicked 
condu6l  of  Abimelech,  and  the  men  of  Sechem. 
The  prophecies  againfl  the  houfe  of  Eli,  1  Sam. 
chap.  ii.  and  iii.  were  accomplilhed  by  the  wicked- 
nefs of  Doeg  the  Edomite,  in  accufing  the  prieits ; 
and  the  great  impiety,  and  extreme  cruelty  of  Saul 
in  deflroying  the  priefts  at  Nob,  1  Sam.  xxii. — 
Nathan's  prophecy  againfl  David,  2  Sam.  xii.  n, 
12,  was  fulfilled  by  the  horrible  wickednefs  of  Ab- 
falom,  in  rebelling  againll  his  father,  feeking  his  life, 
and  lying  with  his  concubines  in  the  fight  of  the 
fun.  The  prophecy  againfl  Solomon,  1  Kings  xi. 
11 — 13,  was  fulfilled  by  Jeroboam's  rebellion  and 
ufurpation,  which  are  fpoken  of  as  his  wickednefs, 
2  Chron.  xiii.  5,  6,  compare  ver.  18.  The  prophe- 
cy againfl  Jeroboam's  family,  1  Kings  xiv.  was  ful- 


Seft.  XL      the  Volitions  of  moral  Agents,  133 

filled  by  the  confpiracy,  treafon,  and  cruel  murders 
of  Baalha,  2  Kings  xv.  27,  &c.  The  predi6lions 
of  the  prophet  Jehu  again  II  the  houfe  of  Baafha,  % 
Kings  xvi.  at  the  beginning,  were  fulfilled  by  the 
trealon  and  parricide  of  Zimri,  1  Kings  xvi.  9,  13,  20. 
3.  How  often  has  God  foretold  the  future  moral 
conduti  of  nations  and  people,  of  numbers,  bodies, 
and  lucceffions  of  men  :  with  God's  judicial  pro- 
ceedings, and  many  other  events  confequent  and  de* 
pendent  on  their  virtues  and  vices  ;  which  could  not 
be  foreknown,  if  the  volitions  of  men,  wherein  they 
a6led  as  7mral  agents,  had  not  been  forefcen  ?  The 
future  cruelty  of  tlie  Egyptians  in  oppreffing  Ifrael, 
«nd  God's  judging  and  punifhing  them  for  it,  was 
foretold  long  before  it  came  to  pafs.  Gen.  xv.  13, 
14.  The  continuance  of  the  iniquity  of  the  Amor- 
ites,  and  the  increafe  of  it  until  it  Jhould  be  JuU,  and 
they  ripe  for  deflru6lion,  was  foretold  above  four 
hundred  years  before-hand,  Gen.  xv.  j6.  A£ls  vii. 
6,  7,  The  prophecies  of  the  deftrudion  of  Jerufa- 
lem,  and  the  land  of  Judah,  were  abfolute  ;  2  Kings 
XX.  17 — 19.  chap.  xxii.  15,  to  the  end.  It  was  fore- 
told in  Hezekiah's  time,  and  was  abundantly  infilled 
on  in  the  bookof  the  prophet  Ifaiah,  who  wrote  noth- 
ing after  Hezekiah's  days.  It  was  foretold  in  Jofi- 
ah's  time,  in  the  beginning  of  a  great  reformation, 
2  Kings  xxii.  And  it  is  manifeft  by  innumerable 
things  in  the  predi6lion  of  the  prophets,  relating  to 
this  event,  its  time,  its  circumflances,  its  continuance 
and  end  ;  the  return  from  the  captivity,  the  reftora* 
tion  of  the  temple,  city  and  land.,  and  many  circum- 
flances and  confequences  of  that  ;  I  fay,  thefe  fliew 
plainly,  that  the  prophecies  of  this  great  event  were 
abfolute.  And  yet  this  event  was  conne6led  with, 
and  dependent  on  two  things  in  men's  moral  con- 
du6l :  firfl:,  the  injurious  rapine  and  violence  of  the 
king  of  Babylon  and  his  people,  as  the  efficient  caufe  ; 


134  GOD  certainly  [oitknows  Part  11. 

which  God  often  fpcaks  of  as  what  he  highly  refent- 
ed,  and  would  feverely  punifh ;  and  2dly,  the  final 
obflinacy  of  the  Jews.  That  great  event  is  often 
fpoken  of  as  fufpeiided  on  this,  Jer.  iv.  i,  and  v.  i. 
vii.  1 — J.  xi.  1 — 6.  xvii.  24,  to  the  end,  xxv.  1 — 7. 
xxvi.  1 — 8,  13,  and  xxxviii.  17,  18.  Therefore  this 
defl:rii£lion  and  captivity  could  not  be  foreknown, 
unlcfs  fuch  a  moral  condu^  of  the  Chaldeans  and 
Jews  had  been  foreknown.  And  then  it  was  fore- 
told, that  the  people  Jhould  bejinally  ohjlinale,  to  the 
deftru6lion  and  utter  defolationof  the  city  and  land, 
Ifa.  vi.  9 — 11.  Jer.  i.  18,  19.  vii.  27 — 29.  Ezek.  iii. 
7,  and  xxiv.  13,  14. 

The  final  obllinacy  of  thofe  Jews  who  were  left 
in  the  land  of  Ifrael,  in  their  idolatry  and  reje6lion 
of  the  true  God,  was  foretold  by  God,  and  the  pre- 
didion  confirmed  with  an  oath,  Jer.  xliv.  26,  27, 
And  God  tells  the  people,  Ifa.  xlviii.  3,  4 — 8,  that 
he  had  predidled  thofe  things  which  fhould  be  con- 
fequent  on  their  treachery  and  obflinacy,  becaufe  he 
knew  they  would  be  obilinate,  and  that  he  had  de- 
clared thefe  things  before-hand  for  their  convi6lion 
of  his  being  the  only  true  God,  G?c. 

The  deftrudion  of  Babylon,  with  many  of  the 
circumflances  of  it,  was  foretold,  as  the  judgment  of 
God  for  the  exceeding  pride  and  haughtinels  of  the 
heads  of  that  monarchy,  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  his 
fucceffors,  and  their  wickedly  deftroying  other  na- 
tions, and  particularly  for  their  exalting  themfelves 
againfl;  the  true  God  and  his  people,  before  any  of 
thefe  monarchs  had  a  being  ;  Ifa.  chap.  xiii.  xiv. 
xlvii  :  compare  Habbak.  ii.  5,  to  the  end,  and  Jer. 
chap.  1.  and  li.  That  Babylon's  defl:ru6lion  v^as  to 
be  a  recompence,  according  to  the  works  cf  their  own 
hands,  appears  by  Jer.  xxv.  14.  The  immorality 
with  which  the  people  of  Babylon,  and  particularly 
her  princes  and  great  men,   were  guily  of,  that  very 


Se6l.  XI.      the  Volitions  of  moral  Agents,  135 

night  that  the  city  was  deftroyed,  their  revelling  and 
drunkennefs  at  Baifhazzer's  idolatrous  feaft,  was 
foretold,  Jer.  li.  39,  57. 

The  return  of  the  Jews  from  the  Babylonifh  cap- 
tivity is  often  vtry  particulaily  foretold  with  many 
circumftances,  and  the  promifes  of  it  are  very  peremp- 
tory ;  Jer.  xxxi.  35 — 40,  and  xxxii.  6 — 15,  41 — 44, 
and  xxxiii.  24 — 26.  And  the  very  time  of  their  re- 
turn was  prefixed  ;  Jer.  xxv.  11,  12,  and  xxix.  10, 
11.  2  Chron.  xxxvi.  21.  Ezek.  iv.  6,  and  Dan.  ix. 
2.  And  yet  the  prophecies  reprefent  their  return  as 
confequent  on  their  repentance.  And  their  repent- 
ance itfelf  is  VQxy  exprelsly  and  particularly  foretold, 
Jer.  xxix.  12,  13,  14.  xxxi.  8,  9,  18 — 31.  xxxiii.  8. 
1.  4,  5.  Ezek,  vi.  8,  9,  10.  vii.  16,  xiv,  22,  23,  and 
XX.  43,  44. 

It  was  foretold  under  the  Old  Teflament,  that  the 
Meffiah  (hould  fufFer  greatly  through  the  malice  and 
cruelty  of  men  ;  as  is  largely  and  fully  fet  forth, 
Pfal.  xxii.  applied  to  Chrift  in  the  New  Teftament, 
Matt,  xxvii,  35,  43.  Luke  xxiii.  34.  John  xix.  24. 
Heb.  ii.  12.  And  likewife  in  Pfal.  Ixix.  which,  it 
is  alfo  evident  by  the  New  Teftament,  is  fpoken  of 
Chrill ;  John  xv.  25.  vii.  5,  &c,  and  ii.  17.  Rom. 
XV.  g.  Matt,  xxvii.  34.  48.  Mark  xv.  23.  John  xix. 
29.     The  fame  thing  is  alfo  foretold,  Ha.  liii.  and  1. 

6,  and  Mic.  v.  i.  This  cruelty  of  men  was  their 
fin,  and  what  they  a6led  as  moral  agents.  It  was 
foretold,  that  there  fhould  be  an  union  of  Heathen 
and  Jewifh  rulers  againfl  Chrift,  Pfal.  ii.  1,  2,  com- 
pared with  A6ls  iv.  25 — 28.  It  was  foretold,  that 
the  Jews  Ihould  generally  rejeQ  and  defpife  the  Mef- 
fiah,  Ka.  xlix.  5,  6,  7,  and  liii.  1 — 3.   Pfal.  xxii.  6, 

7,  and  Ixix.  4,  8,  19,  20.  And  it  was  foretold,  that 
the  body  of  that  nation  fhould  be  rejeded  in  the 
Meffiah's  days,  from  being  God's  people,  for  their 
obftinacy  in  fin;   Ifa.  xlix.  4 — 7,   and  viii.  14,  15, 


136  GOD  certainly  foreknows  Part  IL 

16,  compared  with  Rom.  x.  19,  and  Ifa.  Ixv.  at  the 
beginning,  compared  with  Rom.  x.  20,  21.  It  was 
foretold,  that  Chrill  fliould  be  rejeded  by  the  chief 
priefls  and  rulers  ar.iong  the  Jews,  Pfal.  cxviii.  22, 
compared  with   Matt.  xxi.  42.   A6ls  iv.  11.   1  Pet* 

^^'  4.  7-      . 

Chrift  himfelf  foretold  his  being  delivered  into 

the  hands  of  the  elders,  chief  priefls  and  fcribes,  and 
his  being  cruelly  treated  by  them,  and  condemned 
to  death  ;  and  he  by  them  (hould  be  delivered  to  the 
Gentiks  ;  and  that  he  fhould  be  mocked  and  fcourged 
and  crucified,  (Matt.  xvi.  21,  and  xx.  17 — 19.  Luke 
ix.  22.  John  viii.  28,)  and  that  the  people  fhould  be 
concerned  in  and  conienling  to  his  death,  (Luke  xx. 
13 — 18,)  efpecially  the  inhabitants  of  Jerufalem  ; 
Luke  xiii.  33 — 35.  He  foretold,  that  the  difcipks 
fhould  all  be  ofFendedbecaufeof  Him  that  night  that 
he  was  betrayed,  and  fhould  forfake  him  ;  Matt* 
xxvi.  31.  John  xvi.  3«.  He  foretold,  that  he  fhould 
be  rejetled  of  that  generation,  even  the  body  of  the 
people,  and  that  they  fhould  continue  obftinate,  to 
their  ruin  ;  Matt.  xii.  45.  xxi.  33 — -42,  and  xxii. 
1 — 7.  Luke  xiii.  16,  21,  24.  xvii.  25.  xix.  14,  27, 
41 — 44.  XX.  13 — iBj  and  xxiii.  34 — 39. 

As  It  was  foretold  in  both  Old  Teflament  and 
New,  that  the  Jews  fhould  reje£t  the  MefTiah,  fo  it 
was  foretold  that  the  Gentiles  fhould  receive  Him, 
and  fo  be  admitted  to  the  privileges  of  God's  people  ; 
in  places  too  many  to  be  now  particularly  mention- 
ed. It  was  foretold  in  the  Old  Teflament,  that  the 
jews  fhould  envy  the  Gentiles  on  this  account ; 
i)eut.  xxxii.  21,  compared  with  Rom.  x.  19.  Chrill 
himfelf  often  foretold,  that  the  Gentiles  would  em- 
brace the  true  religion,  and  become  his  followers 
and  people  ;  Matt.  viii.  10,  11,  12.  xxi.  41—- 43, 
and  xxii.  8 — 10.  Luke  xiii.  28.  xiv.  16 — 24,  and 
XX.  16.  John  X.  16.     He  alfo   foretold  the  Jews* 


Se6l.  XL       the  Volitions  of  moral  Agents,  I37 

envy  of  the  Gentiles  on  this  occafion  ;  Matt.  xx. 
12 — 16.  Luke  XV.  26,  to  the  end.  He  foretold^ 
that  they  Ihould  continue  in  this  oppofition  and 
envy,  and  (hould  manifeft  it  in  the  cruel  pevfecu- 
tions  of  his  followers,  to  their  utter  de(lru6lion  ; 
Matt.  xxi.  33 — 42.  xxii.  6,  and  xxiii.  34—39- 
Luke  xi.  49 — 51.  Tlie  Jews  obftinacy  is  alfo  fore- 
told, A6ls  xxii.  i8.  Chnfl:  often  foretold  the  great 
perfecutions  his  followers  (hould  meet  with,  both 
from  Jews  and  Gentiles  ;  Matt.  x.  16—18,  21,  22, 
34 — 36,  and  xxiv.  9,  Mark  xiii.  9.  Luke  x.  3,  xii. 
.  11,  49 — 53,  and  xxi.  12,  16,  17.  John  xv.  18 — 
21,  and  xvi.  1 — 4,  20 — 22,  23.  He  foretold  the 
martyrdom  of  particular  perlons  ;  Matt,  xx,  23. 
John  xiii.  36,  and  xxi.  18,  19,  22.  He  foretold 
the  great  fuccefs  of  the  Gofpel  in  the  city  of  Sama- 
ria, as  near  approaching  ;  which  afterwards  was  ful- 
filled by  the  preaching  of  Philip,  John  iv.  35 — 38. 
He  foretold  the  rifing  of  many  deceivers  after  his 
departure,  Matt,  xxiv,  4,  5,  11,  and  the  apoftacy 
of  many  of  his  profefTed  followers  ;  Matt,  xxiv, 
10 — 12. 

The  perfecutions,  which  the  apoflle  Paul  w^as  to 
meet  with  in  the  world,  were  foretold  ;  A6ls  ix^ 
16 — XX.  23,  and  xxi.  11.  The  apoftle  fays  to  the 
Chriftian  Ephefians,  Acls  xx.  29,  30,  /  know  that 
after  my  departure  Jhall  gricuous  wolves  enter  in  among 
you,  not  f paring  the  flock  ;  alfo  of  your  own  ftlves  fhall 
men  arife,  fpeaking  perverfe  things,  to  draw  away  dif 
ciples  after  them*  The  apoflle  fays,  He  knew  this : 
but  he  did  not  know  it,  if  God  did  not  know  the 
future  a6lions  of  moral  agents. 

4.  Unlefs  God  foreknows  the  future  a£ls  of  moral 
agents,  all  the  prophecies  we  have  in  Scripture  con- 
cerning the  great  Antichriftian  apoftacy  ;  the  rife, 
reign,  wicked  qualities,  and  deeds  of  the  man  offm, 
and  his  inftiumcnts  and  adherents;  the  extent  and 

U 


138  GOD  certainly  foreknows  Part  II. 

long  continuance  of  his  dominion,  his  influence  on 
the  ir^inds  of  princes  and  others,  to  corrupt  them, 
<md  dra^A'  them  away  to  idolatry,  and  other  foul 
vices  ;  his  great  and  cruel  perfecutions  ;  the  behav- 
iour of  the  faints  und'er  thefe  great  temptations, 
S:c.  Sec,  I  fay,  unlefs  the  volitions  of  moral  a- 
gents  are  forefeen,  all  thefe  prophecies  are  uttered 
without  knowing  the  things  foretold. 

The  prcdiQions  relating  to  this  great  apoftacy  are 
all  of  a  moral  nature,  relating  to  men's  virtues  and 
vices,  and  their  exercifes,  fruits  and  confequences, 
and  events  depending  on  them  ;  and  are  very  par- 
ticular; and  mod  of  them  often  repeated,  with  ma- 
ny precife  charaderiflics,  defcriptions,  and  limita- 
tions of  qualities,  conduQ:,  influence.  efFeQs,  extent, 
duration,  periods,  circumflances,  final  iiTuc,  &c. 
which  it  would  be  very  long  to  mention  particular- 
ly. And  to  fuppofe  all  thefe  are  predi61ed  by  God 
iviihout  any  certain  knowledge  of  the  future  moral 
behaviour  of  free  agents,  would  be  to  the  utmoil 
degree  abfurd. 

5.  Unlefs  God  foreknows  the  future  a6ls  of  men's 
Wills,  and  their  behaviour  as  moral  agents,  all 
thofe  great  things  which  are  foretold  in  both  Old 
and  New  Teftament  concerning  the  cre6lion,  eflab- 
lifhment,  and  univerfal  extent  of  the  Kingdom  of  the 
Mrffiah,  were  predi6ted  and  promifed  while  God 
was  in  ignorance  whether  any  of  thefe  things  w^ould 
come  to  pafs  or  no,  and  did  but  guefs  at  them. — 
For  that  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,  it  does  not 
confifl:  in  things  external,  but  is  within  men,  and 
confifts  in  the  dominion  of  virtue  in  their  hearts,  in 
righteoufnefs,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghofl; ;  and  in  thefe  things  made  manifefl;  in  prac- 
tice, to  the  praife  and  glory  of  God.  The  Meffiah 
came  to  fcive  7ncn  from  their  fins,  and  deliver  them 
from  their  i'piritual  enemies  ;  that  Ihcy  might  fervc  him 


Se6l;.  XI.      the  Vditions  of  moral  Jgcnts.  139 

in  righieoufaefs  and  holinefs  be/ore  him  :  he  gave  himfdf 
for  us,  that  he  r,iight  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and  pu- 
rify unto  himfJf  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good  xuorks. 
And  therefore  his  luccefs  conhfts  in  gainin;^  men's 
hearts  to  virtue,  in  their  being  made  God's  zudliiig 
people  in  the  day  of  hh  power.  His  conquell  of  his 
enemies  confifls  in  his  vitlory  over  men's  corrup- 
tions and  vices.  And  fuch  ruccefs,  fuch  vidory, 
and  fuch  a  reign  and  dominion  is  oRcn  exprefsly 
foretold  :  that  his  kingdom y^.?//  fill  the  earth  ;  that 
all  peopU,  nations  and  languages  fiould  ferve  and  obey 
him  ;  and  fo  that  all  nations  fhoidd  go  up  to  the  viountain 
of  the  Houfe  of  the  Lord,  that  he  might  teach  tJijem  his 
zuays,  andihat  they  might  walk  in  his  paths :  and  thac 
allmenflimldbe  drawn  to  Chrift^  and  the  earth  befall 
of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  (by  which,  in  the  ftyle  of 
Scripture,  is  meant  true  virtue  and  religion)  as  ths 
waters  cover  thefeas;  that  God's  law  jJiould  be  put  into- 
mens  inward  parts,  and  written  in  their  hearts ;  and 
that  God's  people  fiould  be  all  righteous,  Sec.  Sec. 

A  very  great  part  of  the  prophecies  of  the  Old 
Teftament  is  taken  up  in  fuch  predictions  as  thefe. 
— And  here  I  would  obferve,  that  the  prophecies 
of  the  univerfal  prevalence  of  the  kingdom  of  the 
Melliah,  and  true  religion  of  Jcfus  Chrill,  are  deliv- 
ered in  the  moll  peremptory  manner,  and  confirm- 
ed by  the  oath  of  God.  Ifa.  xlv.  22,  to  the  end,  Look. 
to  7ne,  and  be  ye  faved,  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  ;  for  I 
am  God,  and  there  is  none  elf^.  I  have  SWORN  by  wy 
Self,  the  word  is  gone  out  of  my  mouth  in  righteoufnefs, 
andfhall  not  return,  that  unto  Me  every  knee  fhall  bow  ; 
and  every  tongue  fhall  /wear.  SURE  LY,  fiall  one  fay  y 
in  the  Lord  have  I  righteoufiefs  andfrengih  :  even  to 
HLmfiill  men  come,  &c.  But  here  this  peremptory 
declaration,  and  great  oath  of  the  Mofl  High,  are 
delivered  with  fuch  mighty  folemnity,  to  things 
whiph  God  did  not  know,  if  he  did  noi  certainly 
forcfee  the  volitions  of  moral  agents. 


140  GOD  certainly  foreknows  Part  II. 

And  all  the  predidions  of  Chrifl:  and  his  apoftles, 
to  the  like  puipofe,  mud  be  without  knowledge ; 
as  thofe  of  our  Saviour  comparing  the  kingdom  of 
God  to  a  grain  of  muflard-feed,  growing  exceeding 
great,  from  a  fmall  beginning  ;  and  to  leaven,  hid 
in  three  meafures  of  meal,  until  the  whole  was  leav- 
ened, &c.—-And  the  prophecies  in  the  epiftles  con- 
cerning the  refloration  of  the  nation  of  the  jews  to 
the  true  church  of  God,  and  the  bringing  in  the  ful- 
nefs  of  the  Gentiles  ;  and  the  prophecies  in  all  the 
Revelation  concerning  the  glorious  change  in  the 
moral  (late  of  the  Vi^orld  of  mankind,  attending  the 
deflru£lion  of  Antichrifl,  the  kingdoms  cf  the  world 
becoming  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  oj  his  Chrijl ; 
and  its  being  granted  to  the  church  to  be  arrayed  in  that 
fine  linen,  white  and  clean^  which  is  the  righteoufnefs  of 
faints,  Sec. 

CoroL  1.  Hence  that  great  promife  and  oath  of 
God  to  Abraham,  Ifaac  and  Jacob,  To  much  cele- 
brated in  Scripture,  both  in  the  Old  Teflament  and 
New,  namely,  That  in  their  feed  all  the  nations  and 
families  of  the  earth  fhould  be  blejfed^  mull  be  made  on 
uncertainties,  if  God  does  not  certainly  foreknow 
the  volitions  of  moral  agents.  For  the  fulfillment 
of  this  promife  confifts  in  that  fuccefs  of  Chrifl  in 
the  work  of  redemption,  and  that  fetting  up  of  his 
fpirituai  kingdom  over  the  nations  ot  the  world, 
•which  has  been  fpoken  of.  Men  are  bk[[ed  in  Chrijl 
no  otherwile  than  as  they  are  brought  to  acknowl- 
edge Him,  trull  in  Him,  love  and  ferve  Him,  as  is 
reprefented  and  predicted  in  Pfal.  Ixxii.  1 1,  All 
kings fhall  fall  down  before  Him  ;  all  nations  fiall  ferve 
Him.  With  ver.  17,  Men  Jhall  be  bkjfed  m  IJim ; 
all  nations  fhall  call  Him  blejfed.  This  oath  to  Jacob 
and  Abraham  is  fulfilled  in  fubduing  men's  iniqui- 
ties;  as  is  implied  ip  that  ef  the  prophet  Micab, 
chap.  vii.  19,  ?Q. 


Seft.  XI.      the  Volitions  of  moral  Agents,  141 

CoroL  2.  Hence  alfo  it  appears,  that  fiift  gofpeU 
promife  that  ever  was  made  to  mankind,  that  great 
prediction  of  the  falvation  of  the  Mefljah,  and  his 
vi6lory  over  Satan,  made  to  our  iirft  parents,  Gen. 
iii.  15,  if  there  be  no  certain  prefcience  of  the  voli- 
tions of  moral  agents,  mud  have  no  better  founda- 
tion than  conjcdlurc.  For  Chrift's  vittory  over  Sa- 
tan confifts  in  men's  being  faved  from  fin,  and  in 
the  vi(iory  of  virtue  and  holinefs,  over  that  vice 
and  vvickednefs,  which  Satan,  by  his  temptation  has 
introduced,  and  wherein  his  kingdom  conTills. 

6.  If  it  be  fo,  that  God  has  not  a  prefcience  of 
the  future  a6lions  of  moral  agents,  it  will  follow, 
that  the  prophecies  of  Scripture  iu  general  are  with- 
out foreknowledge.  For  Scripture-prophecies,  al- 
moft  all  of  them,  if  not  univerially  without  any  ex- 
ception, are  either  predi6tions  of  the  adings  and  be- 
haviours of  moral  agents  or  of  events  depending 
on  them,  or  fome  way  connected  with  them;  judi- 
cial difpenfations,  judgments  on  men  for  their 
wickcdnefs,  or  rewards  of  virtue  and  righteoufneis, 
remarkable  manifeftations  of  favour  to  the  righteous 
or  manifeflations  of  fovereign  mercy  to  Tinners,  for- 
giving their  iniquities,  and  magnifying  the  riches  of 
divine  Grace  ;  or  dilpenfations  of  Providence,  in 
fome  refpe6l  or  other,  relating  to  the  conduct  of  the 
fubje61s  of  God's  moral  government,  wifely  adapt- 
ed thereto  ;  either  providing  for  what  fhould  be  in 
a  future  ftate  of  things,  through  the  volitions  and 
voluntary  anions  of  moral  agents,  or  confequenc 
upon  them,  and  regulated  and  ordered  according 
to  them.  So  that  all  events  that  ate  foretold,  are 
either  moral  events,  or  other  events  which  are  con- 
ne6led  with,  and  accommodated  to  moral  events. 

That  the  predi6lions  of  Scripture  in  general  mud 
be  without  knowledge,  if  God  does  not  forefee  the 
volitions  of  men,    will  further  appear,  if  it  be  con- 


I4«i  .  GOD  certainly  foreknows  Part  IL 

fidered,  that  alnioft  all  events  belonging  to  the  fu- 
ture ftate  of  the  world  of  mankind,  the  changes  and 
revolutions  which  come  to  pafs  in  empires,  king- 
doms, and  nations,  and  all  focieties,  depend  innu- 
merable ways  on  the  acts  of  men's  Wills  :  yea,  on 
an  innumerable  multitude  of  millions  of  millions  of 
volitions  of  mankind.  Such  is  the  ftate  and  courfe 
of  things  in  the  world  of  mankind,  that  one  fingle 
event,  which  appears  in  itfelf  exceeding  inconfider- 
able,  may,  in  the  progrefs  and  feries  of  things,  oc- 
caiion  a  fucccfTion  of  the  greatell  and  mofl  impor- 
tant and  extenfive  events;  caahngthe  flate  of  man- 
kind to  be  vaftly  different  from  what  it  would  oth- 
erwife  have  been,  for  all  fucceeding  generations. 

For  inftance,  the  coming  into  exiftence  of  thofe 
particular  men,  who  have  been  the  great  conquer- 
ors of  the  world,  which,  under  God,  have  had  the 
main  hand  in  all  the  confequent  ftate  of  the  world, 
in  all  afte^-ages  ;  fuch  as  Nebuchadnezzar,  Cyrus, 
Alexande*-,  Pompcy,  Julius  Caefar,  Sec.  undoubted- 
ly depended  on  many  millions  of  ads  of  the  Will, 
which  followed,  and  were  occafioned  one  by  anoth- 
er, in  their  parents.  And  perhaps  moft  of  ihefe 
volitions  depended  on  millions  of  volitions  of  hun- 
dreds and  thoufands  of  others,  their  contemporaries 
of  the  f^ime  generation  ;  and  moft  of  thel'e  on  mill- 
ions of  millions  of  volitions  of  others  in  preceding 
generations.  As  we  go  back,  ftill  the  number  of 
volitions,  which  were  iome  way  the  occafton  of  the 
event,  multiply  as  the  branches  of  a  river,  until  they 
come  at  laft,  as  it  were,  to  an  inhnirc  number.  This 
will  not  feem  ftrange  to  any  one  who  well  confiders 
the  matter  ;  if  we  recollect  what  philofophcrs  tell  us 
of  the  innumerable  njukitudcs  of  thofe  things  which 
are,  as  it  were,  \\\q  frincipia^  orjlaviinavitce,  concern- 
ed in  generation  ;  the  animalcida  in  fcmcn  majculo, 
and  the  ova  in  the   womb    of    the    fcn:iale  ;   the  ini- 


Seel.  XI.      the  Volitions  of  moral  Agents.  143 

prcgnation,  or  animating  of  one  of  thefe  in  diflinc- 
tion  from  all  the  reft,  inuft:  depend  on  things  infi- 
nitely minute,  relating  to  the  time  and  circumflances 
of  the  adt  of  the  parents,  the  ftate  of  their  bodies, 
(3c.  which  muft  depend  on  innumerable  foregoing 
circumftances  and  occurrences  ;  which  muft  depend, 
infinite  ways,  on  foregoing  a6ls  of  their  Wills  ; 
which  are  occafioned  by  innumerable  things  that 
happen  in  the  courie  of  their  lives,  in  which  their 
own,  and  their  neighbour's  behaviour,  muft  have  a 
hand,  an  infinite  number  of  ways.  And  as  the  vo- 
litions of  others  muft  be  fo  many  ways  concerned 
in  the  conception  and  birth  of  fuch  men  ;  fo,  no 
lefs,  in  their  prefervation,  and  circumftances  of  life, 
their  particular  determinations  and  a6lions,  on 
which  the  great  revolutions  they  were  the  occafions 
of,  depended.  As,  for  inftance,  when  the  confpir- 
ators  in  Perfia,  againft  the  Magi,  were  confulting 
about  a  fmcceffion  to  the  empire,  it  came  into  the 
mind  of  one  of  them,  to  propofe,  that  he  whofe 
horfe  neighed  firft,  when  they  came  together  the 
next  morning,  ftiouid  be  king.  Now  fuch  a  thing's 
coming  into  his  mind,  might  depend  on  innumer- 
able incidents,  wherein  the  volitions  of  mankind 
had  been  concerned.  But,  in  confequence  of  this 
accident,  Darius,  the  fon  of  Hiftafpes,  was  king. 
And  if  this  had  not  been,  probably  his  fuccellor 
would  not  have  h^tn  the  fame,  and  all  the  circum- 
ftances of  the  Perfian  empire  might  have  been  far 
otherwifc.  And  then  perhaps  Alexander  might 
never  have  conquered  that  empire.  And  theu  prob- 
ably the  circumftances  of  the  world,  in  all  fucceed- 
ing  ages,  might  have  been  vaftly  otherwife.  I  might 
further  inftance  in  many  other  occurrences  ;  fuch 
as  thofe  on  which  depended  Alexander's  preferva- 
tion, in  the  many  critical  junQures  of  his  life,  where- 
in 2  fmall  trifle  would  have  turned  the  fcale  again  11 


144  GOD  certainly  foreknows  Part  II* 

him  ;  and  the  prefervation  and  fuccefs  of  the  Ro- 
!TJan  people,  in  the  infancy  of  their  kingdom  and 
commonwealth,  and  afterwards  ;  which  all  the  (uc- 
ceeding  changes  in  their  ftate,  and  the  mighty  revo- 
lutions that  afterwards  came  to  pafs  in  the  habitahle 
world,  depended  upon.  But  thefe  hints  may  be 
fufficient  for  every  difcerning  confiderate  perfon,  to 
convince  him,  that  the  whole  ftate  of  the  world  of 
mankind,  in  all  ages,  and  the  very  being  of  every 
perfon  who  has  ever  lived  in  it,  in  every  age,  fince 
the  times  of  the  ancient  prophets,  has  depended  on 
more  volitions,  or  a6ts  of  the  Wills  of  men,  than 
there  are  fands  on  the  fea-fhore. 

And  therefore,  unlefs  God  does  moft  exadlly  and 
perfedly  fore  fee  the  future  afts  of  men's  Wills,  all 
the  predictions  which  he  ever  uttered  concerning 
David,  Hezekiah,  jofiah,  Nebuchadnezzar,  Cyru5, 
Alexander  ;  concerning  the  four  monarchies,  and 
the  revolutions  in  them ;  and  concerning  all  the 
wars,  commotions,  vi6iories,  profperities  and  calam- 
ities, of  any  of  the  kingdoms,  nations  or  communi- 
ties of  the  world,  have  all  been  without  knowledge. 

So  that,  according  to  this  notion  of  God's  not 
forefeeing  the  volitions  and  free  anions  of  men, 
God  could  forefee  nothing  appertaining  to  the  ftate 
of  the  world  of  mankind  in  future  ages ;  not  fo 
much  as  the  being  of  one  perfon  that  fhould  live 
in  it;  and  could  foreknow  no  events,  but  only  fuch 
as  He  would  bring  to  pafs  himfelf  by  the  extraor- 
dinary interpofition  of  his  immediate  power  ;  or 
things  which  (hould  come  to  pafs  in  the  natural  ma- 
terial world,  by  the  laws  of  motion,  and  courfe  of 
nature,  wherein  that  is  independent  on  the  anions 
or  works  of  mankind  ;  that  is  as  he  might,  like  a  ve- 
ry able  mathematician  and  aftronomer,  with  great 
cxadlncfs  calculate  the  revolutions  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  and  the  greater  wheels  of  the  machine  of 
the  exiernal  creation. 


Se6l.  XI.      the  VoUiioiis  of  moral  Agents,  145 

And  if  we  clofely  confider  the  matter,  there  will 
appear  reafori  to  convince  us,  that  he  could  not, 
with  any  abfoiute  certainty,  forefee  even  thefe.  As 
to  the  firjl^  namely,  things  done  by  the  immediate 
and  extraordinary  interpofirion  of  God's  power, 
thefe  cannot  be  forefeen,  nnlefs  it  can  be  forefeen 
when  there  (hall  be  occafion  for  fach  extraordinary 
interpolition.  And  that  cannot  be  forefeen,  unlefs 
the  ftate  of  the  moral  world  can  be  forefeen.  For 
whenever  God  thus  interpofes,  it  is  with  regard  to  the 
Rate  of  the  moral  world,  requiring  fuch  divine  inter- 
pofition.  Thus  God  could  not  certainly  forefee  the 
nniverfal  deluge,  the  calling  of  Abraham,  the  de- 
flruciion  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  the  plagues  on 
Egypt,  and  Ifrael's  redernprion  out  of  it,  the  expel- 
ling the  feven  nations  of  Canaan,  and  the  bringing 
Ifrael  into  that  land;  for  thefe  all  are  reprefented 
as  conne6led  with  things  belonging  to  the  ftate  of 
the  moral  world.  Nor  can  God  foreknow  the  moft 
proper  and  convenient  time  of  the  day  of  judgment 
and  general  conilagration ;  for  that  chiefly  depends 
on  the  courfe  and  (late  of  things  in  the  moral  world. 

Nor,  Secondly^  can  we  on  this  fuppofition  reafon- 
ably  think,  that  God  can  certainly  forefee  what  things 
fhall  come  to  pafs,  in  the  courle  of  things,  in  the 
natural  and  material  v/orld,  even  thofe  which  in  an 
ordinary  (late  of  things  might  be  cdculated  by  a 
good  aflronomer.  For  the  moral  world  is  the  end 
of  the  natural  world  ;  and  the  courfe  of  things  in 
the  former,  is  undoubredly  luboidinate  to  God's 
defigns  with  refpc6l  to  the  latter.  Therefore  he  has 
feen  caufe,  from  regard  to  the  ftate  of  things  in  the 
moral  world,  extraordinarily  to  iiiierpofe,  to  interrupt 
and  lay  an  arreft  on  the  courfe  of  things  in  the  nat- 
ural world  ;  and  even  in  the  greater  wheels  ol  its 
motion  ;  even  fo  as  to  (lop  the  fun  in  its  courfe. — 
And  unlefs  he  can  forefee  the  volitions  of  men,  and 

W 


146  GOD  certainly  hrtknows  Part  I L 

fo  know  fomething  of  the  future  (late  of  the  moral 
world,  He  cannot  know  but  that  he  may  ftill  have 
as  great  occafion  to  interpofe  in  this  manner,  as  ever 
he  had ;  nor  can  He  forefee  how,  or  when,  He  fhall 
have  occafion  thus  to  interpofe. 

Carol.  1.  It  appears  from  the  things  which  have 
been  obferved,  that  unlefs  God  forefees  the  volitions 
of  moral  agents,  that  cannot  be  true  which  is  ob- 
ferved by  the  apollle  James,  A6ls  xv.  18,  Known 
unto  God  are  all  his  works  from  the  beginning  of  the 
world, 

Carol.  2.  It  appears  from  what  has  been  obferved, 
that  unlefs  God  foreknows  the  volitions  of  moral 
agents,  all  the  prophecies  of  Scripture  have  no  bet- 
ter foundation  than  mere  conjecture ;  and  that,  in 
mod  inflances,  a  conjecture  which  mufl  have  the 
utmoft  uncertainty  ;  depending  on  an  innumerable, 
and,  as  it  were,  infinite  multitude  of  volitions,  which 
are  all,  even  to  God,  uncertain  events  :  however, 
thefe  prophecies  are  delivered  as  abfolute  predic- 
tions, and  very  many  of  them  in  the  moll  pofitivc 
manner,  with  affeverations  ;  and  fome  of  them  with 
the  mod  folemn  oaths. 

Carol.  3.  It  alfo  follows,  from  what  has  been  ob- 
ferved, that  if  this  notion  of  God's  ignorance  of  fu- 
ture volitions  be  true,  in  vain  did  Chrifl;  fay  (after 
uttering  many  great  and  important  predictions,  con- 
cerning God's  moral  kingdom,  and  things  depend- 
ing on  men's  moral  aClions)  Matt,  xxiv.  35,  Heav^ 
en  and  earth  Jhall  pafs  away ;  but  ^ny  wordjliail  not 
fafs  away. 

Coral.  4.  From  the  fame  notion  of  God's  igno- 
rance, it  would  follow,  that  in  vain  has  God  Himfeif 
often  fpoke  of  the  predictions  of  his  word,  as  evi- 
dences of  foreknowledge  ;  and  fo  as  evidences  of 
that  which  is  his  prerogative  as  GOD,  and  his  pecu- 
liar glory,  greatly  dillinguilhing  Him  from  all  other 


S6l.  Xr.       the  Volitions  of  moral  Agents,  147 

beings  ;  as  in  Ifa.  xli.  22 — 26.   xliii.  9,  10.  xliv.  8. 
xlv.  21,  xlvi.  10,  and  xlviii.  14. 

Arc.  II.  If  God  does  not  foreknow  the  volitions 
of  moral  agents,  then  he  did  not  foreknow  the  fall  o^ 
man.,  nor  of  angels,  and  fo  could  not  foreknow  the 
great  things  which  are  covfequent  on  thefe  events ; 
fuch  as  his  fending  his  Son  into  the  world  to  di-e  for 
linners,  and  all  things  pertaining  to  the  great  work 
of  redemption ;  all  the  things  which  were  done  for 
four  thoufand  years  before  Chrift  came,  to  prepare 
the  way  for  it ;  and  the  incarnation,  life,  death,  rc- 
furre£lion  and  afcenfion  of  Chrift ;  and  the  fetting 
Him  at  the  head  of  the  univerfe,  as  King  of  heaven 
and  earth,  angels  and  men  ;  and  the  fetting  up  His 
church  and  kingdom  in  this  werld,  and  appointing 
Him  the  Judge  of  the  world;  and  all  that  Satan 
fhoTild  do  in  the  world  in  oppofition  to  the  kingdom 
of  Chrift:  and  the  great  tranfa6lions  of  the  day  of 
judgment,  that  men  and  devils  ftiall  be  the  fubjeCls 
of,  and  angels  concerned  in ;  they  are  all  what  God 
was  ignorant  of  before  the  fall.  And  if  fo,  the  fol- 
lowing Scriptures,  and  others  like  them,  muft  be 
without  any  meaning,  or  contrary  to  truth.  Eph. 
i.  4,  According  as  he  hath  chofen  us  in  Him  before  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  1  Pet.  i.  20,  Who  verily  was 
fore- ordained  before  the  foundation  0/  the  world,  2  Tim, 
i,  g^  Who  hathfaved  us,  and  called  us  with  an  holy  call" 
ing ;  not  according  to  our  works,  but  according  to  his 
own  purpofe  and  grace,  which  was  given  us  in  Chrijl 
Jefiis  before  the  world  began.  So,  Eph.  iii.  1 1 ,  (fpeak- 
ing  of  the  wifdom  of  God  in  the  work  of  redemp- 
tion) according  to  the  eternal  purpofe  which  he  pur po fed 
in  Chrift  Jefus,  Tit.  i.  2,  In  hope  of  eternal  life, 
which  God  that  cannot  lie,  promifed  before  the  -world  be» 
gan,  Rom.  viii.  29,  Whom  he  did  foreknow,  them  ht 
alfo  did  predeflinate,  Sec,  1  Pet.  i.  2,  EkH,  according 
to  the  foreknowledge  of  God  the  Father^ 


148  GOD  certainly  foreknows  Part  II. 

If  God  did  not  foreknow  the  fall  of  man,  nor  the 
redemption  of  Jcfus  Chrift,  nor  the  volitions  of  man 
fince  the  fall ;  then  he  did  not  foreknow  the  faints 
in  any  fenfe  ;  neither  as  particular  perfons,  nor  as 
focieties  or  nations  ;  either  by  election,  or  mere  fore- 
light  of  their  virtue  or  good  works  ;  or  any  forefight 
of  any  thing  about  them  relating  to  their  falv^ation ; 
or  any  benefit  they  have  by  Chrift,  or  any  manner 
of  concern  of  their's  with  a  Redeemer. 

ArgI  III.  On  the  fuppolition  of  God's  ignorance  • 
of  the  future  volitions  of  free  agents,  it  will  follow, 
that  God  muft  in  many  cafes  truly  repent  what  He 
has  done,  fo  as  properly  to  wifti  He  had  done  oth- 
erwifo:  by  reafon  that  the  event  of  things,  in  thofe 
affairs  which  are  moft  important,  viz.  the  afipairs  of 
his  moral  kingdom,  being  uncertain  and  contingent, 
often  happens  quite  otherwife  than  he  was  aware 
before-hand.  And  there  would  be  reafon  to  un- 
derftand,  that  in  the  moft  literal  fenfe,  in  Gen.  vi.  6, 
It  repented  the  Lord,  that  he  had  inade  man  on  the  earth, 
and  it  grieved  him  at  his  heart.  And  that,  1  vSam.  xv, 
11,  contrary  to  that,  Numb,  xxiii.  ig,  God  is  not  the 
Son  0/ man,  that  He  Jlioidd  repent.  And,  1  Sam.  xv. 
15,  29,  Alfo  thejlrength  of  Ifrael  zoill  not  lie,  nor  re^ 
pent ;  for  He  is  not  a  man  that  HeJJiouId  repent.  Yea, 
from  this  notion  it  would  follow,  that  God  is  liable 
to  repent  and  be  grieved  at  His  heart,  in  a  literal 
fenfe,  continually  ;  and  is  always  expofed  to  an  in- 
finite number  of  real  difappointments  in  his  gov- 
erning the  world ;  and  to  manifpld,  conftant,  great 
perplexity  and  vexation  :  but  this  is  not  very  con- 
fiftent  with  his  title  of  God  over  all,  hkljedjor  ever 
more;  which  rcprefents  Him  as  poftefted  of  perfect, 
conftant  and  uninterrupted  tranquility  and  felicity, 
as  God  over  the  univerfe,  and  in  his  management  of 
the  aff'dirs  of  the  world,  as  fupreme  and  univerfai 
Ruler.  See  Rom.  i.  25,  ix,  5.  2  Cor.  xi.  31.  1 
Tim.  vi.  15. 


Se6l.  XI.      the  Volitions  of  moral  Agents.  i^g 

Arc.  IV.  It  will  alfo  follow  from  this  notion, 
that  as  God  is  liable  to  be  continually  repenting 
what  he  has  done;  fo  He  mud  be  expofed  to  be 
conftantly  changing  his  mind  and  intentions,  as  to 
his  future  conduQ  ;  altering  his  meafures,  relincjuilii- 
ing  his  old  defigns,  and  forming  ne'.7  fchemes  and 
proje6lions.  For  his  purpoies,  even  as  to  the  main 
parts  of  his  fcheme,  namely,  fuch  as  belong  to  the 
ftate  of  his  moral  kingdom,  mud  be  always  liable  to 
be  broken,  through  want  of  forefight;  and  he  muft 
be  continually  putting  his  fyftem  to  rights,  as  itgeis 
out  of  order,  through  the  conlingence  of  the  adtions 
of  moral  agents;  He  muft  be  a  Being,  who,  inflead 
of  being  abiolutely  immutable,  muft  necefTarily  be 
the  fubje6l  of  infinitely  the  moft  numerous  a6h  of 
repentance,  and  changes  of  intention,  of  any  being 
whatfoever;  for  this  plain  reafon,  that  his  vaftly 
extenfive  charge  comprehends  an  infinitely  greater 
number  of  thofe  things  which  are  to  Him  contingent 
and  uncertain.  In  fuch  a  fituation,  He  muft  have 
little  elfe  to  do,  but  to  mend  broken  links  as  well  as 
he  can,  and  be  redlifying  his  disjointed  frame  and 
difordered  movements;  in  the  beft  manner  the  cafe 
will  allow.  The  Supreme  Lord  of  all  things  muft 
needs  be  under  great  and  miferable  difadvantages,  in 
governing  the  world  which  he  has  made  and  has  the 
care  of,  through  his  being  utterly  unable  to  find  out 
things  of  chief  importance,  which  hereafter  ftiail  be- 
fal  his  fj  ftem  ;  which,  if  he  did  but  know,  He  might 
make  feafonabie  provifion  for.  In  many  cafes,  there 
may  be  very  great  neceffiiy  that  He  Ihould  n)ake 
provifion,  in  the  manner  of  his  ordering  and  difpof- 
ing  things,  for  fome  great  events  which  are  to  hap- 
pen, of  vaft  and  extenfive  influence,  and  endlefs 
confequence  to  the  univerfe;  which  He  may  fee  af- 
terwards, when  it  is  too  late,  and  may  wifh  in  vain 
that  he  had  known  before  hand,  that  He  might  have 


150  GOD  certainly  hrtknovrs  Part  II. 

ordered  his  afiFairs  accordingly.  And  it  is  in  the 
power  of  man,  on  thefe  principles,  by  his  devices, 
purpofes  and  a6lions,  thus  to  difappoint  God,  break 
bis  meafures,  make  Him  continually  to  change  his 
mind,  fubjeft  him  to  vexation,  and  bring  Him  into 
confufion. 

But  how  (3©  thefe  things  confift  with  reafon,  or 
with  the  word  of  God  ?  Which  reprefents,  that  all 
God's  works,  all  that  He  has  ever  to  do,  the  whole 
fcheme  and  feries  of  his  operations,  ?irt  from  the  be^ 
ginning  perfe6i;ly  in  his  view;  and  declares,  that 
-whatever  devices  and  defigns  are  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
the  counfel  of  the  Lord  is  that  which  fhallfl and,  and  the 
thoughts  of  his  heart  to  all  generations,  Prov.  xix.  21. 
Pfal.  xxxiii.  10,  11.  And  that  which  the  Lord  of  Hofls 
hath  pur p of ed,  none  fhall  dif annul,  Ifa.  xiv.  27.  And 
that  he  cannot  be  fruftrated  in  one  defign  or  thought. 
Job  xHi.  2.  And  that  which  God  doth,  itfhall  he  forev^ 
er,  that  nothing  can  he  put  to  it,  or  taken  from  it,  Eccl. 
iii.  14.  The  (lability  and  perpetuity  of  God's  coun- 
fels  are  exprefsly  Ipoken  of  as  conneded  with  the 
foreknowledge  of  God,  Ifaiah  xlvi.  10.  Declaring 
the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  from  ancient  times  the 
things  that  are  not  yet  done  ;  faying,  My  counfel  fhall 
fiand,  and  I  zuill  do  all  my  pleafure. — And  how  are 
thefe  things  confiRent  with  what  the  Scripture  fays 
of  God's  immutability,  which  reprefents  Him  as 
•without  variablcnefs,  orfhadow  of  turning  ;  and  fpeaks 
of  Him  mod  particularly  as  unchangeable  with  re- 
gard to  his  purpofes,  Mai.  iii.  6.  I  am  the  Lord;  I 
change  710 1  ;  therefore  ye  fons  of  Jacob  are  not  con  fum- 
ed, Exod.  iii.  14.  /  AM  THAT  I  AM,  Job  xxiii. 
13,  14.  He  is  in  one  mind;  and  who  can  turn  Him? 
And  what  his  foul  defreth,  even  that  he  doth  :  for  he 
performdh  the  thing  that  is  appointed  for  me. 

Arc.  V.  If  this  notion  of  God's  ignorance  of  fu- 
ture volitions  of  moral  agents  be  thoroughly  corifid- 


Se£l.  XL       the  Volitions  of  moral  Agents.  151 

ered  in  its  confequences,  it  will  appear  to  follow 
from  it,  that  God,  after  he  had  made  the  world,  was 
liable  to  be  wholly  fniftrated  of  his  end  m  the  creation 
of  it ;  and  fo  has  been,  in  like  manner,  liable  to  be 
fruflrated  of  his  end  in  all  the  great  works  he  hath 
wrought.  It  is  manifeft,  the  moral  world  is  the  end 
of  the  natural  :  the  reft;  of  the  creation  is  but  an 
houfe  which  God  hath  built,  with  furniture,  for  mor- 
al agents  :  and  the  good  or  bad  ftate  of  the  moral 
world  depends  on  the  improvement  they  make  of 
their  natural  agency,  and  fo  depends  on  their  vo- 
litions. And  therefore,  if  thefe  cannot  be  forefeen 
by  God,  becaufe  they  are  contingent,  and  fubjecl  to 
no  kind  of  necefijjty,  then  the  affairs  of  the  moral 
world  are  liable  to  go  wrong,  to  any  affignable  de- 
gree ;  yea,  liable  to  be  utterly  ruined.  As  on  this 
fcheme,  it  may  v/ell  be  fuppofed  to  be  literally  faid, 
when  mankind,  by  the  abufe  of  their  moral  agency, 
became  very  corrupt  before  the  flood,  that  the  Lord 
repented  that  he  had  made  man  on  the  earth,  and  it 
grieved  Him  at  his  heart ;  fo,  when  He  made  the  uni- 
verfe,  He  did  not  know  but  that  he  might  be  io  dif- 
appointed  in  it,  that  it  might  grieve  Him  at  his  heart 
that  hj3  had  made  it.  It  aQually  proved,  that  all 
mankind  became  finful,  and  a  very  great  part  of  the 
angels  apoHatifed  :  and  how  could  God  know  be- 
fore-hand, that  all  of  them  would  not  ?  And  how 
could  God  know  but  that  all  mankind,  notwithfland- 
ing  means  ufed  to  reclaim  them,  being  ftill  left  to 
the  freedom  of  their  own  Will,  would  continue  in 
their  apoftacy,  and  grow  worfe  and  worfe,  as  they  of 
the  old  world  before  the  flood  did  ? 

According  to  the  fcheme  I  am  endeavouring  to 
confute,  neither  the  fall  of  men  or  angeli;,  could  he 
forefeen,  and  God  muft  be  greatly  difappomted  '\n 
thefe  events  ;  and  fo  the  grand  fcheme  and  contriv- 
ance for  our  redemption,   and  dellioying  the  works 


i§2  GGD  certainly  foreknow.-,  Sec.       Part  II. 

of  the  devil,  by  the  Melliah,  and  all  the  great  things 
God  has  done  in  the  profecution  of  thefe  defigns, 
mull  be  only  ihc  fruits  of  his  own  difappointment, 
and  contrivances  of  his  to  mend  and  patch  up,  as 
well  as  he  could,  his  fyllcm,  which  originally  was 
all  very  good,  and  perfectly  beautiful  ;  but  was 
marr'd,  broken  and  confounded  by  the  free  Will  of 
anaels  and  men.  And  (till  he  mull  be  liable  to  be 
totally  dilappointed  a  fecond  time  :  He  could  not 
know,  that  He  lliould  have  his  dehred  fuccefs,  in  the 
incarnation,  life,  death,  refurredion  and  exaltation 
of  his  only  begotten  Son,  and  other  great  works  ac- 
compliibed  to  reftore  the  (late  of  things  :  He  could 
not  know,  afier  all,  whether  there  would  a6tually  be 
any  tolerable  meafure  of  refloration  ;  for  this  de- 
pended on  the  free  Will  of  man.  There  has  been 
a  general  great  apoftacy  of  almoll  all  the  chriUian 
world,  to  that  v/hich  was  worfe  than  heathenifm  ; 
which  continued  for  many  ages.  And  how  could 
Cod,  without  forefeeing  men's  volitions,  know 
v;hcther  ever  Chriftendom  would  return  from  this 
apodacy  ?  And  which  way  could  He  tell  before- 
hand how  foon  it  would  begin  ?  The  apofile  fays, 
it  beoan  to  work  in  his  time  ;  and  how  could  it  be 
known  how  far  it  would  proceed  in  that  age  ?  Yea, 
how  could  it  be  known  that  the  gofpel,  which  was 
not  efR^tlual  for  the  reformation  oi  the  Jews,  would 
ever  be  eiiedual  for  the  turning  of  the  heathen  na- 
tions from  their  heathen  apodacy,  which  they  had 
been  conhrmed  in  for  fo  many  ages  ? 

It  IS  rcpiefcnted  ofcen  in  Scripture,  that  God,  who 
made  the  world  for  Kimielf,  and  created  it  for  his 
pleafurc,  Vwould  infallibly  obtain  his  end  in  the  cre- 
ation, and  in  all  his  works  i  that  as  ail  things  are  of 
Him,  lo  would  all  be  to  him  ;  and  that  in  the  final 
JU'ue  of  things,  it  would  appear  that  He  is  ihejirji^ 
and  the  Icji^  Rev.  xxi.  6.     And  he  fuid  anto  mc^  It  is 


SeQ:.  XII.     Certain  Foreknowledge,  &c.  153 

done.  I  am  Alpha  and  Otnega,  the  beginning  and  the 
end,  the  firji  and  the  lajl.  But  thefe  things  are  not 
confiftent  with  God's  being  (o  liable  to  be  dilap- 
pointed  in  all  his  works,  nor  indeed  with  his  failing 
of  his  end  in  any  thing  that  He  has  undertaken,  or 
done. 


Section     XII. 

GODs  certain  Foreknowledge  of  the  future  volitions  of 
moral  agents,  inconfifient  withfuch  a  Contingence  of 
ihofe  voliiionsj  as  is  without  all  Neceffity. 

Having  proved,  that  GOD  has  a  certain  and  in- 
fallible prefi  ience  of  the  a6l  of  the  Will  of  moral 
agents,  I  come  now,  in  the  fecondiplsiCQ,  to  (hew  the 
confequence  ;  to  fhew  how  it  follows  from  hence, 
that  thefe  events  are  necejfary,  with  a  Neceffity  of  con- 
nexion or  confequence. 

The  chief  Arviinian  divines,  fo  far  as  I  have  bad 
opportunity  to  obferve,  deny  this  confequence  ;  and 
affirm,  that  if  fuch  Foreknowledge  be  allowed,  it  is 
no  evidence  of  any  Neceffity  of  the  event  foreknown. 
Now  I  defire,  that  this  maitex  may  be  particularly 
and  thoroughly  enquired  into.  I  cannot  but  think, 
that  on  particular  and  full  confideraiion,  it  may  be 
perfeftly  determined,  whether  it  be  indeed  fo,  or  not. 

In  order  to  a  proper  confideraiion  of  this  matter, 
I  would  obferve  the  following  things. 

I.  It  is  very  evident,  with  rtg.ird  to  a  thing  whofe 
exiftence  is  infallibly  and  indill'ulubly  connefted 
with  fomething  which  already  hath,  or  has  had  ex- 
igence, the  exiftence  of  that  thing  isneceiTary.  Here 
may  be  noted, 

1.  I  obferved  before,  in  explaining  the  nature  of 
Neceffity,  that  in  things  which  are  paft,  their  paft 

X 


154  Certain  Foreknowledge  Part  II. 

exiftence  is  now  neceffary  :  having  already  made 
fure  of  exiftence,  it  is  too  late  for  any  poflibility  of 
alteration  in  that  refpedt  :  it  is  now  impoffible  that 
it  fhould  be  otherwife  than  true,  that  that  thing  has 
exifted. 

2.  If  there  be  any  fuch  thing  as  a  divine  Fore- 
knowledge of  the  volitions  of  free  agents,  that  Fore- 
knowledge, by  the  fuppohtion,  is  a  thing  which  al- 
ready has,  and  long  ago  had  exiftence  ;  and  fo,  now 
its  exiftence  is  neceflary  ;  it  is  now  utterly  impolli^ 
ble  to  be  otherwife,  than  that  this  Foreknowledge 
Ihould  be,  or  fliould  have  been. 

3.  It  is  alfo  very  manifeft,  that  thofe  things  which 
are  indiftblubly  conneded  with  other  things  that  are 
neceffary,  are  themfelves  neceffary.  As  that  propo- 
rtion whofe  truth  is  neceffarily  connected  with 
another  propofition,  which  is  neceffarily  true,  is  it- 
felf  neceffarily  true.  To  fay  otherwife,  would  be  a 
contradi6tion  :  it  would  be  in  effe6l  to  fay,  that  the 
connexion  was  indiffoluble,  and  yet  was  not  fo,  but 
might  be  broken.  If  th'at,  whofe  exiftence  is  indif- 
folubly  connected  with  fomething,  whofe  exiftence 
is  now  neceffary,  is  itfelf  not  neceffary,  then  it  may 
fojfibly  not  exijt,  notwithftanding  that  indiffoluble 
connexion  of  its  exiftence.  Whether  the  abfurdity 
be  not  glaring,  let  the  reader  judge, 

4.  It  is  no  lefs  evident,  that  if  there  be  a  full,  cer- 
tain and  infallible  Foreknowledge  of  the  future  exift- 
ence of  the  volitions  of  moral  agents,  then  there  is  a 
certain,  infallible  and  indiffoluble  connexion  between 
thofe  events  and  that  Foreknowledge  ;  and  that  there- 
fore, by  the  preceding  obfervations,  thofe  events  are 
neceffary  events ;  being  infallibly  and  indiffolubly 
connected  with  that,  whofe  exiftence  already  is,  and 
fo  is  now  neceffary,  and  cannot  but  have  been. 

To  fay,  the  Foreknowledge  is  certain  and  infallible, 
and  yet  the  connexion  of  the  event  witii  that  Fore- 


Sj£1.  XII.  infers  fome  Neceffity.  15/5 

knowledge  is  not  indlflfoluble,  but  diflToluble  and 
fallible,  is  very  abfurd.  To  affirm  it,  would  be  the 
iame  thing  as  to  affirm,  that  there  is  no  neceflfary 
connexion  between  a  propofition's  being  infallibly 
known  to  be  true,  and  its  being  true  indeed.  So 
that  it  is  perfedly  demonflrable,  that  if  there  be  any 
infallible  knowledge  of  future  volitions,  the  event  is 
neccjjary  ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  it  is  impojfible  but 
the  event  (hould  come  to  pafs.  For  if  it  be  not  im- 
poffible  but  that  it  may  be  otherwife,  then  it  is  not 
impoffible,  but  that  the  proportion  which  affirms  its 
future  coming  to  pafs,  may  not  now  be  true.  But 
how  abfurd  is  that,  on  the  fuppofition  that  there  is 
now  an  infallible  knowledge  {i,  e.  knowledge  which 
it  is  impoffible  ffiould  fail)  that  it  is  true.  There  is 
this  abfurdity  in  it  that  it  is  not  impoffible,  but  that 
there  now  ffiould  be  no  truth  in  that  propofition, 
which  is  now  infallibly  known  to  be  true. 

II.  That  no  future  event  can  be  certainly  fore- 
known, whofe  exiftence  is  contingent,  and  without; 
all  Neceffity,  may  be  proved  thus :  It  is  impoffible 
for  a  thing  to  be  certainly  known  to  any  intelle6l 
without  evidence.  To  fuppofe  otherwife,  implies  a 
contradi6tion:  becaufe  for  a  thing  to  be  certainly 
known  to  any  underftanding,  is  for  it  to  be  evident 
to  that  underftanding  ;  and  for  a  thing  to  be  evident 
to  any  underftanding  is  the  fame  thing,  as  for  that 
underftanding  to  fee  evidence  of  it :  but  no  under- 
ftanding, created  or  increated,  csiufee  evidence  where 
there  is  none  :  for  that  is  the  fame  thing,  as  to  fee 
that  to  be,  which  is  not.  And  therefore,  if  there  be 
any  truth  which  is  abfolutely  without  evidence,  that 
truth  is  abfolutely  unknowable,  infomuch  that  it  im- 
plies a  contradi6tion  to  fuppofe  that  it  is  known. 

But  if  there  be  any  future  event,  whofe  exiftence 
is  contingent,  without  all  Neceflity,  the  future  exift- 
ence of  the  event  is   abfolutclv  without  evuhnce.     If 


J  56  Certain  Foreknowledge  Part  II* 

there  be  any  evidence  of  it,  it  muft  be  one  of  tbefc 
two  forts,  either  f elf- evidence,  or  proof;  for  there  can 
be  no  other  fort  of  evidence,  but  one  of  thefe  two ; 
an  evident  thing  muft  be  either  evident  in  itfelf,  or 
evident  infomelhtng  elfe ;  that  is,  evident  by  connex- 
ion with  fomething  elfe.  But  a  future  thing,  whofe 
cxiftence  is  without  all  Neceffity,  car^  have  neither 
of  thefe  forts  of  evidence.  It  cannot  hQ  f elf- evident : 
for  if  it  be,  it  may  be  now  known,  by  what  is  now 
to  be  feen  in  the  thing  itfelf ;  either  its  prefent  ex- 
iftence,  or  the  Neceffity  of  its  nature :  but  both  thefe 
are  contrary  to  the  fuppofition.  It  is  fuppofed, 
both  that  the  thing  has  no  prefent  exiftence  to  be 
feen ;  and  alfo  that  it  is  not  of  fuch  a  nature  as  to 
be  neceffarily  exiftent  for  the  future :  fo  that  its  fu- 
ture exiftence  is  not  felf-evident.  And,  fecondly^ 
neither  is  there  any  proof  or  evidence  in  any  thing  elfe, 
or  evidence  of  connexien  with  fomething  elfe  that  is 
evident ;  for  this  is  alfo  contrary  to  the  fuppofitiou. 
It  is  fuppofed,  that  there  is  now  nothing  exiftent 
with  which  the  future  exiftence  of  the  contingent  event 
is  conne£led.  For  fuch  a  connexion  deftroys  its 
cantingence,  and  fuppofes  Neceffity.  Thus  it  is  de- 
monftrated,  that  there  is  in  the  nature  of  things  ab- 
folutely  no  evidence  at  all  of  the  future  exiftence  of 
that  event,  which  is  contingent,  without  all  Neceffi- 
ty (if  any  fuch  event  there  be)  neither  fel f-evider;pe 
nor  proof.  And  therefore  the  thing  in  reality  is  not 
evident;  and  fo  cannot  be  feen  to  be  evident,  or, 
which  is  the  fame  thing,  cannot  be  known. 

Let  us  confider  this  in  an  example.  Suppofe 
that  five  thoufand  feven  hundred  and  fixty  years  ago, 
there  was  no  other  being  but  the  Divine  Being ;  and 
then  this  world,  or  fome  particular  body  or  Ipirit, 
ail  at  once  ftarts  out  of  nothing  into  being,  and  takes 
on  itfelf  a  particular  nature  and  form  ;  all  in  abfohie 
tontingence,  withoi^t  A^y  poncein  of  God,  or  s^ny 


Seft.  XII.  infers fojne  Neceflity.  157 

other  caufe,  in  the  matter;  without  any  manner  of 
ground  or  reafon  of  its  exiftence;  or  any  depend- 
ence upon,  or  connexion  at  all  with  any  thing  fore- 
going :  I  fay,  that  if  this  be  fuppofed,  there  was  no 
evidence  of  that  event  before-hand.  There  was  no 
evidence  of  it  to  be  feen  m  the  thing  itfelf ;  for  the 
thing  itfelf  as  yet,  was  not.  And  there  was  no  evi- 
dence of  it  to  be  feen  in  any  thing  elfe  ;  for  evidence  in 
fomething  elfe,  is  connexion  with  fomething  elfe  :  but 
fuch  connexion  is  contrary  to  the  fuppofition. — 
There  was  no  evidence  before,  that  this  thing  would 
happen;  for  by  the  fuppofition,  there  was  no  reafon 
why  it  jhoidd  happen,  rather  than  fomething  elfe,  or 
rather  than  nothing.  And  if  fo,  then  all  things  be- 
fore were  exa^ly  equal,  and  the  fame,  with  refpe6t 
to  that  and  other  poffible  things ;  there  was  no  pre- 
ponderation,  no  fuperior  weight  or  value ;  and  there- 
fore, nothing  that  could  be  of  any  weight  or  value  • 
to  determine  any  underftanding.  The  thing  was  abfo  - 
lutely  without  evidence,  and  abfolutely  unknowable. 
An  increafe  of  underftanding,  or  of  the  capacity 
of  difcerning,  has  no  tendency,  and  makes  no  ad- 
vance, to  a  difcernisg  any  figns  or  evidences  of  it, 
let  it  be  increafed  never  fo  much ;  yea,  if  it  be  in- 
crcafed  infinitely.  The  increafe  of  the  ftrcngth  of 
light  may  have  a  tendency  to  enable  to  difcern  the 
evidence  which  is  far  off,  and  very  much  hid,  and 
deeply  involved  in  clouds  and  darknefs ;  but  it  has 
no  tendency  to  enable  to  difcern  evidence  where 
there  is  none.  If  the  fight  be  infinitely  ftrong,  and 
the  capacity  of  difcerning  infinitely  great,  it  will 
enable  to  fee  all  that  there  is,  and  to  fee  it  perfe6lly, 
and  with  eafe ;  yet  it  has  no  tendency  at  all  to  ena- 
ble a  being  to  difcern  that  evidence  which  is  not  ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  it  has  a  tendency  to  enable  to 
difcern  with  great  certainty  that  there  is  none. 
III.    To  fuppofe  the  future  volitions  of  moral  a**' 


15^  Certain  Foreknowledge^  ^c.        Part  IT, 

gents  not  to  be  necefl'ary  events ;  or,  which  is  the 
lame  thing,  events  which  it  is  not  impoflible  but  that 
they  may  not  come  to  pafs  ;  and  yet  to  fuppofe 
that  God  certainly  foreknows  them,  and  knows  all 
things ;  is  to  fuppofe  God's  knowledge  to  be  incon- 
fiftent  with  itfelf.  For  to  fay,  that  God  certainly, 
end  without  all  conje6iure,  knows  that  a  thing  will 
infallibly  be,  which  at  the  fame  time  he  knows  to  be 
io  contingent,  that  it  may  poffibly  not  be,  is  to  fup- 
pofe his  knowledge  inconfiflent  with  itfelf;  or  that 
one  thing,  that  he  knows,  is  utterly  inconlillent  with 
another  thing,  that  he  knows.  It  is  the  fame  thing 
as  to  fay,  he  now  knows  a  propofition  to  be  of  cer- 
tain infallible  truth,  which  he  knows  to  be  of  con- 
tingent uncertain  truth.  If  a  future  volition  is  fo 
without  all  Necefiity,  that  there  is  nothing  hinders 
but  that  it  may  not  be,  then  the  propofition,  which 
afferts  its  future  exiftence,  is  fo  uncertain,  that  there 
is  nothing  hinders,  but  that  the  truth  of  it  may  en- 
tirely fail.  And  if  God  knows  all  things,  he  knows 
this  proportion  to  be  thus  uncertain.  And  that  is 
inconfillent  with  his  knowing  that  it  is  infallibly 
true;  and  fo  inconfiflent  with  his  infallibly  knowing 
that  it  is  true.  If  the  thing  be  indeed  contingent, 
God  views  it  fo,  and  judges  it  to  be  contingent,  if  he 
views  things  as  they  are.  If  the  event  be  not  necef- 
fary,  then  it  is  pofiible  it  may  never  be  :  and  if  it  be 
poffible  it  may  never  be,  God  knows  it  may  polfibly 
never  be  ;  and  that  is  to  know  that  the  propofition, 
which  affirms  its  exiflence,  may  poffibly  not  be  true  ; 
?.nd  that  is  to  know  that  the  truth  of  it  is  uncertain  ; 
which  furely  is  inconfiflent  with  his  knowing  it  as  a 
certain  truth.  If  volitions  are  in  themfelves  contin- 
gent events,  without  all  Neceffitv,  then  it  is  no  ar- 
gument of  perefe6lion  of  knowledge  in  any  being  to 
determine  peremptorily  that  they  will  be  ;  but  on 
the  contrary,  an  argument  of  ignorance  and  miflakc; 


Se6l.  XII.      Foreknowledge  infers,  6?c.  159 

becaufe  it  would  argue,  that  he  fuppofes  that  propo- 
fition  to  be  certain,  which  in  its  own  nature,  and  all 
things  confidered,  is  uncertain  and  contingent.  To 
fay,  in  fuch  a  cafe,  that  God  may  have  ways  of 
knowing  contingent  events  which  we  cannot  con- 
ceive of,  is  ridiculous  ;  as  much  fo,  as  to  fay,  thai 
God  may  know  contradi6lions  to  be  true,  for  ought 
we  know,  or  that  he  may  know  a  thing  to  be  certain, 
and  at  the  fame  time  know  it  not  to  be  certain, 
though  we  cannot  conceive  how  ;  becaufe  he  has 
ways  of  knowing,  which  we  cannot  comprehend. 

CoroL  1.  From  what  has  been  obferved  it  is  evi- 
dent, that  the  abfolute  decrees  of  God  are  no  more 
inconfiftent  with  human  liberty,  on  account  of  any 
Neceffity  of  the  event,  which  follows  from  luch  de- 
crees, than  the  abfolute  Foreknowledge  of  God.  Be- 
caufe the  connexion  between  the  event  and  certaia 
Foreknowledge,  is  as  infallible  and  indifl'oliible,  as 
between  the  event  and  an  abfolute  decree.  That  is, 
it  is  no  more  impoffible,  that  the  event  and  decree 
fhould  not  agree  together,  than  that  the  event  and 
abfolute  knowledge  fhould  difagree.  The  connex- 
ion between  the  event  and  Foreknowledge  is  abfolute- 
ly  perfeft,  by  the  fuppofition  :  becaufe  it  is  fappof- 
cd,  that  the  certainty  and  infallibility  of  the  knowl- 
edge is  abfolutely  perfe6l.  And  it  being  fo,  the  cer- 
tainty cannot  be  increafed  ;  and  therefore  the  con- 
nexion between  the  knowledge  and  thing  known, 
cannot  be  increafed  ;  fo  that  if  a  decree  be  added  to 
the  Foreknowledge,  it  does  not  at  all  increafe  the  con- 
nexion, or  make  it  more  infallible  or  indiflbluble. 
If  it  were  not  fo,  the  certainty  of  knowledge  might 
be  increafed  by  the  addition  of  a  decree  ;  which  is 
contrary  to  the  fuppofition,  which  is,  that  the  knowl- 
edge is  abfolutely  perfe6l,  or  perfe6t  to  the  highcft 
poffibie  degree. 

There  is  as  much  of  an  impofFibility  but  that  the 


i6o  Foreknowledge  in/en  Nuejfity,       Part  li. 

things  which  are  infallibly  foreknown,  fhould  be,  or 
(which  is  the  fame  thing)  as  great  a  neceffity  of  their 
future  exiftence,  as  if  the  event  were  already  written 
down,  and  was  known  and  read  by  all  mankind, 
through  all  preceding  ages,  and  there  was  the  mofl 
indifToIuble  and  perfe6l  connexion  poffible,  between 
the  writing,  and  the  thing  written.  In  fuch  a  cafe, 
it  would  be  as  impoflible  the  event  fhould  fail  of  ex- 
iftence, as  if  it  had  exifted  already  ;  and  a  decree 
cannot  make  an  event  iurer  or  more  neceflary  than 
this. 

And  therefore,  if  there  be  any  fuch  Foreknowledge, 
as  it  has  been  proved  there  is,  then  Neceffity  of  con- 
nexion and  confequence,  is  not  at  all  inconfiftent 
with  any  liberty  which  man,  or  any  other  creature 
enjoys.  And  from  hence  it  may  be  inferred,  that 
abfolute  decrees  of  God,  which  does  not  at  all  in- 
creafetheNeceffity,  arenot  atall  inconfiflent  with  the 
liberty  which  man  enjoys,  on  any  fuch  account,  as 
that  they  make  the  event  decreed  neceffary,  and  ren- 
der it  utterly  impoffible  but  that  it  fhould  come  to 
pafs.  Therefore,  if  abfolute  decrees  are  inconfiftent 
with  man's  liberty  as  a  moral  agent,  or  his  liberty 
in  a  ftate  of  probation,  or  any  liberty  whatfoever 
that  he  enjoys,  it  is  not  on  account  of  any  Neceffity 
which  abfolute  decrees  infer. 

Dr.  Whitby  fuppofes,  there  is  a  great  difference 
between  God's  Foreknowledge,  and  his  decrees,  with 
regard  to  Neceffity  of  future  events.  In  his  Dif- 
courfe  on  the  five  Points,  p.  474,  Sec.  he  fays, 
*'  God's  prefcience  has  no  influence  at  all  on  our 
*'  a61ions  : — ffiould  God,  (fays  he)  by  immediate 
"  revelation,  give  me  the  knowledge  of  the  event  of 
**  any  man's  ftate  or  a6lions,  would  my  knowledge 
*'  of  them  have  any  influence  upon  his  a61ions  ? 
*'  Surely  none  at  all.  Our  knowledge  doth  not  af- 
*'  fed  th«  things  we  know,  to  make  them  more  cer- 


Se6l.  XII.  di  much  as  a  Decree.  161 

**  tain,  or  more  future,  than  they  would  be  without 
*'  it.  Now,  Foreknowledge  in  God  is  knowledge. 
**  As  therefore  knowledge  has  no  influence  on  things 
*'  that  are,  fo  neither  has  Foreknowledge  on  things 
*'  that  fhail  be.  And  confequently,  the  Foreknowi- 
"  edge  of  any  a6lion  that  would  be  otherwife  free, 
•*  cannot  alter  or  diminifh  thai:  freedom.  Whereas 
**  God's  decree  of  eledion  is  powerful  and  a6live, 
''  and  comprehends  the  preparation  and  exhibition 
"  of  fuch  means,  as  (ball  unfruflrably  produce  the 
*'  end.  Hence  God's  prefcience  renders  no  atlions 
*'  ncceffary.'*  And  to  this  purpofe,  p.  473,  he  cites 
Origen,  where  he  fays,  God's  prefcience  is  not  the  caufe 
oft  kings  future,  kit  their  being  future  is  the  caufe  of  God's 
prefcience  that  they  will  be  :  and  Le  Blanc,  where  he 
lays,  This  is  the  truefl  refolution  of  this  difficulty^  that 
prefcience  is  not  the  caife  that  things  are  future  ;  but  their 
being  future  is  the  caufe  they  arcforefeen.  In  like  man- 
ner, Dr.  Clark,  in  his  DemonRration  of  the  Being 
and  Attributes  of  God,  p.  95 — 99.  And  the  author 
of  the  Freedom  of  Will,  in  God  and  the  Creature,  fpeak- 
ing  to  the  like  purpofe  with  Dr.  Whitby,  reprefents 
Foreknowledge  as  having  no  more  infuence  on  things 
known,  to  make  them  necejfary,  than  after-knowledge,  or 
to  that  purpofe. 

To  all  which  I  would  fay,  that  what  is  faid  about 
knowledge,  its  not  having  influence  on  the  thing 
known  to  make  it  neceiTary,  is  nothing  to  the  pur- 
pofe, nor  does  it  in  the^  lead  affe6l  the  foregoing 
reafoning.  Whether  prefcience  be  the  thing  that 
makes  the  event  neceiTary  or  no,  it  alters  not  the  cafe. 
Infallible  Foreknowledge  may  prove  the  Ncceffity  of 
the  event  foreknown,  and  yet  not  be  the  thing 
which  caufes  the  Neceffity.  If  the  Foreknowledge 
be  abfolute,  this  proves  the  event  known  to  be  necel- 
fary,  or  proves  that  it  is  impodible  but  that  the  event 
fhould  be,  by  fome  means  or  other,  either  by  a  d€- 

y 


i62  Forknowlcdge  infers  Ntctjjiiy,        Part  II. 

cree,  or  fome  other  way,  if  there  be  any  other  way  : 
becaufe,  as  was  faid  before,  it  is  abfurd  to  fay,  that 
a  propoiition  is  known  to  be  certainly  and  infallibly 
true,  which  yet  may  poflibly  prove  not  true. 

The  whole  of  the  feeming  force  of  this  evafion 
lies  in  this ;  that,  in  as  much  as  certain  Foreknowl- 
edge does  not  caujt  an  event  to  be  neceffary,  as  a 
decree  does  ;  therefore  it  does  not  prove  it  to  be 
neceffary,  as  a  decree  does.  But  there  is  no  force  in 
this  arguing  ;  for  it  is  built  wholly  on  this  fuppo- 
lition,  that  nothing  can  prove,  or  be  an  evidence  of  a 
thing's  being  neceffary,  but  that  which  has  a  caufal 
injluenu  to  make  it  fo.  But  this  can  never  be  main- 
tained. If  certain  Foreknowledge  of  the  future  ex- 
ifling  of  an  event,  be  not  the  thing,  which  firft  makes 
it  impoffible  that  it  fhould  fail  of  exiftence  ;  yet  it 
may,  and  certainly  does,  demorjlrate,  that  it  is  im- 
poffible it  fhould  fail  of  it,  however  that  impoffibil- 
ity  comes.  If  Foreknowledge  be  not  the  caufe,  but 
the  effe6^  of  this  impoffibility,  it  may  prove  that 
there  is  fuch  an  impoffibility,  as  much  as  if  it  were 
the  caufe.  It  is  as  ftrong  tirguing  from  the  effe6i  to 
the  caufe,  as  from  the  caule  to  the  effeft.  It  is 
enough,  that  an  exiftence,  which  is  infallibly  fore- 
known, cannot  fail,  whether  that  impoffibility  arif- 
cs  from  the  Foreknowledge,  or  is  prior  to  it.  It  is 
as  evident,  as  it  is  poffible  any  thing  fhould  be,  that 
it  is  impoffible  a  thing,  which  is  infallibly  known 
to  be  true,  (hould  prove  not  to  be  true  :  therefore 
there  is  a  Nccejfity  that  it  {hould  be  otherwife  ;  whe- 
ther the  knowledge  be  the  caufe  of  this  Neceffity, 
or  the  Neceffity  the  caufe  of  the  knowledge. 

All  certain  knowledge,  whether  it  be  Foreknowl- 
edge or  after-knowledge,  or  concomitant  knowl- 
edge, proves  the  thing  known  now  to  be  neceffary, 
by  fome  means  or  other ;  or  proves  that  it  is  im- 
poilable  it  fhould  now  be  otherwife  than  true,     I 


Sc€t.  XII.  ^5  much  as  a  Decree.  163 

freely  allow,  that  Foreknowledge  does  not  prove  a 
thing  to  be  neceffary  any  more  than  after-knowl- 
edge :  but  then  after-knowledge,  which  is  certain 
and  infallible,  proves  that  it  is  now  become  impof- 
fible  but  that  the  proportion  known  ftiould  be  true. 
Certain  after-knowledge,  proves  that  it  is  now,  in 
the  time  of  the  knowledge,  by  forae  means  or  other, 
become  impoffible  but  that  the  propohtion,  which 
predicates  paji  exillence  on  the  event,  lliould  be  true. 
And  fo  does  certain  Foreknowledge  prove,  that  now, 
in  the  time  of  the  knowledge,  it  is  by  fome  means 
or  other,  become  impoffible  but  that  the  propofition, 
which  predicatesyw/wr^  exiflence  on  the  event,  ftiould 
be  true.  The  Neceffity  of  the  truth  of  the  propo- 
fitions,  confifting  in  the  prefent  impoffibility  of  the 
non-exiftence  of  the  event  affirmed,  in  both  cafes,  is 
the  immediate  ground  of  the  certainty  of  the  knowl- 
edge ;  there  can  be  no  certainty  of  knowledge 
without  it. 

There  muft  be  a  certainty  in  things  themfelves^ 
before  they  are  certainly  known,  or  (which  is  the 
fame  thing)  known  to  be  certain.  For  certainty  of 
knowledge  is  nothing  elfe  but  knowing  or  difcern- 
ing  the  certainty  there  is  in  the  things  themfelves, 
which  are  known.  Therefore  there  muft  be  a  cer- 
tainty in  things  to  be  a  ground  of  certainty  o£ 
knowledge,  and  to  render  things  capable  of  being 
known  to  be  certain.  And  this  is  nothing  but  the 
Neceffity  of  the  truth  known,  or  its  being  impoffible 
but  that  it  fhould  be  true  ;  or,  in  other  words,  the 
firm  and  infallible  connexion  between  the  fubjedt 
and  predicate  of  the  propofition  that  contains  that 
truth.  All  certainty  of  knowledge  confifts  in  the 
view  of  the  firmnefs  of  that  connexion.  So  God's 
certain  Forels^iowledge  of  the  future  exiftence  of  any 
event,  is  his  view  of  the  firm  and  indiffi^luble  con- 
nexion of  the  fubjed  and  predicate   of  the    propo^ 


164  Foreknowledge  injcn  NeceJfUy,        Part  II. 

fition  that  affirms  its  future  exiRence.  The  fubjeft 
is  that  poQible  event;  the  predicate  is  its  future  ex- 
iftitig  :  but  if  future  exiRence  be  firmly  and  indif- 
folubly  conne6led  with  that  event,  then  the  future  ex- 
iRence of  that  event  is  ncccflary.  If  God  certainly 
knows  the  future  exiRence  of  an  event  which  is 
wholly  contingent,  and  may  poRibly  never  be,  then 
He  fees  a  firm  connexion  between  a  fubje6l  and  pre- 
dicate that  are  not  firmly  connected  ;  which  is  a 
contradiftion. 

I  allow  what  Dr.  Whitby  fays  to  be  true,  That 
mere  knowledge  does  not  affect  the  thing  knowii,  to  make 
it  more  certain  or  more  future.  But  yet,  1  fay,  it  fup- 
fofes  znd  proves  the  thing  to  be  already,  both  future, 
^nd  certain  J  i.  e.  neceffarily  future,  knowledge  of 
futurity,  fuppofes  futurity  ;  and  a  certain  knowledge 
of  futurity,  fuppofes  certain  futurity,  antecedent  t® 
that  certain  knowledge.  But  there  is  no  other  cer- 
tain futurity  of  a  thing,  antecedent  to  certainty  of 
knowledge,  than  a  prior  impofFibility  but  that  the 
thing  fliould  prove  true  ;  or  fwhicii  is  the  fame 
thing)  the  NeceRity  of  the  event. 

1  would  obferve  one  thing  further  concerning  this 
matter;  it  is  this  ;  that  if  it  be  as  thofe  foremention- 
ed  writers  fuppofe,  that  God's  Foreknowledge  is  not 
the  caufe,  but  the  efFeft  of  the  exiRence  of  the  event 
foreknown ;  this  is  fo  far  from  ftiewing  that  this 
Foreknowledge  doth  not  infer  the  Necelfity  of  the 
exiRence  of  that  event,  that  it  rather  fhews  the  con- 
trary the  more  plainly.  Becaufe  it  fhews  the  exiR- 
ence of  the  event  to  be  fo  fettled  and  firm,  that  it  is 
as  if  it  had  already  been  ;  in  as  mucli  as  in  effeEl  it  ac- 
tually exiRs  already  ;  its  future  exiRence  has  already 
had  aQual  infuence  and  efficiency,  and  has  produced 
an  effe^i,  viz.  Prefcience :  the  effeft  exiRs  already  ; 
and  as  the  eff"e6l  fuppofes,  the  caufe  is  connedled 
*with  the  caufe,  and  depends  entirely  upon  it,  there- 


Seft.  XII.  as  timch  as  a  Decree,  165 

fore  itis  as  if  the  future  event,  which  is  the  caufe, 
had  exifted  already.  The  cffeft  is  firm  as  poflible, 
it  having  already  the  poirefTion  of  exiflence,  and  has 
made  fure  of  it.  But  the  c{Fe6l  cannot  be  more 
firm  and  flable  than  its  caufe,  grouad  and  reafon. 
The  building  cannot  be  firmer  than  the  foundation. 
To  illuftrate  this  matter,  let  us  fuppofe  the  ap- 
pearances and  images  of  things  in  a  glafs  ;  for  in- 
llance,  a  reflefting  telefcope  to  be  the  real  efFecls  of 
heavenly  bodies  (at  a  diflance,  and  out  of  fight) 
which  they  refemble  :  if  it  be  fo,  then,  as  thefe  irr) ag- 
es in  the  telefcope  have  had  a  pafh  a6lual  exiflence, 
and  it  is  become  utterly  impoffible  now  that  it  ihould 
be  otherwife  than  that  they  have  exifled;  fo  they 
being  the  true  cffeds  of  the  heavenly  bodies  (hey 
refemble,  this  proves  the  exifling  of  thofe  heavenly 
bodies  to  be  as  real,  infallible,  firm  and  neccffary, 
as  the  exifling  of  thefe  c{le6ls  ;  the  one  being  con- 
ne£led  with,  and  wholly  depending  on  the  other.—- 
Now  let  us  fuppofe  future  exiflcnces  fome  way  or 
other  to  have  influence  back,  to  produce  effeds  be- 
fore-hand, and  caufe  exa6l  and  perfeft  images  of 
themfelves  in  a  glafs,  a  thoufand  years  before  they 
exifl,  yea,  in  all  preceding  ages  ;  but  yet  that  theic 
images  are  real  efFe61s  of  thefe  future  exiftences, 
perfedly  dependent  on,  and  conneQed  with  their 
caufe  ;  thefe  efFe6ls  and  images,  having  already  had 
a6lual  exiflence,  rendering  that  matter  of  their  ex- 
ifling perfeftly  firm  and  flable,  and  utterly  impodi- 
ble  to  be  otherwife;  this  proves  in  like  manner,  as 
in  the  other  inflance,  that  the  exiflence  of  the  things, 
which  are  their  caufes,  is  alfo  equally  fure,  firm  and 
neceffary  ;  and  that  it  is  alike  impofhble  but  that 
they  fhould  be,  as  if  they  had  been  already,  as  their 
efFe6ls  have.  And  if  inftead  of  images  in  a  g\3^(s, 
we  fuppofe  the  antecedent  efFe6ls  to  be  perfed  ideas 
of  them  in   the  Divine  Mind,   which   have  exifled 


i66  Certain  Foreknowledge  Part  II, 

there  from  all  eternit)'^,  which  are  as  properly  efFe6ls, 
as  truly  and  properly  conneQed  with  their  caufe, 
the  cafe  is  not  altered. 

Another  thing  which  has  been  faid  by  fome  Ar- 
minians,  to  take  oflF  the  force  of  what  is  urged  from 
God's  Prefcience,  againft  the  contingence  of  the  vo- 
litions of  moral  agents,  is  to  this  purpofe  :  **  That 
**  when  we  talk  of  Foreknowledge  in  God,  there  is 
^  no  ftrid  propriety  in  our  fo  fpeaking  ;  and  that 
''although  it  be  true,  that  there  is  in  God  the  mofl 
*'  perfe^J;  knowledge  of  all  events  from  eternity  to 
**  eternity,  yet  there  is  no  fuch  thing  as  before  and  af" 
**  tcr  in  God,  but  He  fees  all  things  by  one  perfe6t 
"unchangeable  view,  without  any  fucceflion." — — 
To  this  I  anfwer, 

1.  It  has  been  already  fhewn,  that  all  certain 
knowledge  proves  the  Necellity  of  the  truth  known  ; 
whether  it  be  he/ore,  after,  or  at  the  fame  time. — Tho* 
it  be  true,  that  there  is  no  fucceffion  in  God's  knowl- 
edge, and  the  manner  of  his  knowledge  is  to  us  in- 
conceivable, yet  thus  much  we  know  concerning  it, 
that  there  is  no  event,  pad,  prefent,  or  to  come,  that 
God  is  ever  uncertain  of;  He  never  is,  never  was, 
and  never  will  be  without  infallible  knowledge  of 
it;  He  always  fees  the  exiftence  of  it  to  be  certain 
and  infallible.  And  as  he  always  fees  things  jufl  as 
they  are  in  truth ;  hence  there  never  is  in  reality 
any  thing  contingent  in  fuch  a  fenfe,  as  that  poffi- 
bly  it  may  happen  never  to  exift.  If,  ftriftly  fpeak- 
ing, there  is  no  Foreknowledge  in  God,  it  is  becaufe 
thofc  things,  which  are  future  to  us,  are  as  prefent 
to  God,  as  if  they  already  had  exiftence:  and  that 
is  as  much  as  to  fay,  that  future  events  are  always 
in  God's  view  as  evident,  clear,  fure  and  neceffary, 
as  if  they  already  were.  If  there  never  is  a  time 
wherein  the  exiftence  of  the  event  is  not  prefent 
with  God,   then    there  never  is  a  time  wherein  it  i$ 


Se6l.  XII.  infers  fome^eceiTity,  167 

not  as  much  impoflible  for  it  to  fail  of  exiflence,  as 
if  its  exiftence  were  prefent,  and  were  already  come 
to  pafs. 

God's  viewing  things  fo  perfe6lly  and  unchangea- 
bly as  that  there  is  no  fucceflion  in  his  ideas  or  judg- 
ment, do  not  hinder  but  that  there  is  properly  now, 
in  the  mind  of  God,  a  certain  and  perfe6l  knowl- 
edge of  moral  a6lions  of  men,  which  to  us  are  an  hun- 
dred years  hence  :  yea  the  obje6lion  fuppofes  this ; 
and  therefore  it  certainly  does  not  hinder  but  that, 
by  the  foregoing  arguments,  it  is  now  impoffibl® 
thefe  moral  adions  fhould  not  come  to  pafs. 

We  know,  that  God  knows  the  future  voluntary 
a61;ions  of  men  in  fuch  a  fenfe  before-hand,  as  that 
he  is  able  particularly  to  declare,  and  foretel  them, 
and  write  them,  or  caufe  them  to  be  written  down 
in  a  book,  as  He  ofteri  has  done ;  and  that  there- 
fore the  neceflary  connexion  which  there  is  between 
God*s  knowledge  and  the  event  known,  does  as 
much  prove  the  event  to  be  neceffary  before-hand, 
as  if  the  Divine  Knowledge  were  in  the  fame  fenfe 
before  the  event,  as  the  predi6lion  or  writing  is.  If 
the  knowledge  be  infallible,  then  the  expreffion  of 
it  in  the  written  predi6lion  is  infallible  ;  that  is, 
there  is  an  infallible  connexion  between  thgt  written, 
prediction  and  the  event.  And  if  fo,  then  it  is  im- 
poflible it  fhould  ever  be  otherwife,  than  that  that 
predidlion  and  the  event  (hould  agree :  and  this  is  the 
fame  thing  as  to  fay,  it  is  impoflible  but  that  the 
event  fhould  come  to  pafs :  and  this  is  the  fame  as 
to  fay  that  its  coming  to  pafs  is  necefl'ary. — So  that 
it  is  manifeft,  that  there  being  no  proper  fucceflion 
in  God's  mind,  makes  no  alteration  as  to  the  Necef- 
Cty  of  the  exifl:ence  of  the  events  which  God  knows. 
Yea, 

2.  This  is  fo  far  from  weakening  the  proof,  which 
has  been  given  of  the  impolTibility  of  the  not  com- 


i68  Certain  Foreknowledge,  &c.         Part  II, 

ing  to  pafs  of  future  events  known,  as  that  it  eflab- 
lilhes  that,  wherein  the  ftrength  of  the  foregoing 
arguments  confiCls,  and  fhews  the  clearnefs  of  the 
evidence.     For, 

(i.)  The  very  reafon  why  God's  knowledge  is 
without  fucceffion,  is,  becaufe  it  is  abfolutely  per- 
fe6i;,  to  the  highell  poUible  degree  of  clearnefs  and 
certainty  :  all  things,  whether  pad,  prefent,  or  to 
come,  being  viewed  with  equal  evidence  and  ful- 
nefs ;  future  things  being  (ecn  with  as  much  clear- 
nefs, as  if  they  were  prefent ;  the  view  is  always  in 
abfolute  perfection  ;  and  abfolute  confliant  perfec- 
tion admits  of  no  alteration,  and  fo  no  fucceffion  ; 
the  a6lual  exiftence  of  the  thing  known,  does  not  at 
all  increafe,  or  add  to  the  clearnefs  or  certainty  of 
the  thing  known  :  God  calls  the  things  that  are  not, 
as  though  they  were ;  they  are  all  one  to  him  as  if 
they  had  already  exifted.  But  herein  confifts  the 
ftrength  of  the  demonftration  before  given,  oi  the 
impoflibility  of  the  not  exilling  of  thofe  things,  whofe 
exiftence  God  knows ;  that  it  is  as  impoftible  they 
fhould  fail  of  exiftence,  as  if  they  exifted  already. 
This  objedtion,  inftead  of  weakening  this  argument, 
fets  it  in  the  cleareftand  ftrongeft  light ;  for  it  fup- 
pofes  it  to  be  fo  indeed,  that  the  exiftence  of  future 
events  is  in  God's  view  fo  much  as  if  it  already  had 
been,  that  when  they  come  a£lualiy  toexifl:,itmakes 
not  the  leaft  alteration  or  variation  in  his  view  or 
knowledge  of  them. 

(2.)  The  objedion  is  founded  on  the  immutahili^ 
iy  oi  God's  knowledge:  for  it  is  the  immutability 
of  knowledge  makes  his  knowledge  to  be  without 
fucceftion.  But  this  moft  dire6tly  and  plainly  de- 
tnonftrates  the  thing  I  infift  on,  viz.  that  it  is  utterly 
impoffible  the  known  events  ftiouldfail  of  exiftence. 
For  if  that  were  poffible,  then  it  would  be  poffible 
for  there  to  be  a  change  in   God's  knowledge  and 


Se6i:.  XII.     Foxeknowledire  proves  Necefity,         169 

view  of  things.  For  if  the  known  event  fhould  fail 
of  exiftence,  and  not  come  into  being,  as  God  ex- 
pe6led,  then  God  would  fee  it,  and  fo  would  change 
his  mind,  and  fee  his  former  miftake  ;  and  thus  there 
would  be  change  and  fuccelfion  in  his  knowled2e. 
But  as  God  is  immutable,  and  fo  it  is  utterly  infi- 
nitely impoflible  that  his  view  (hould  be  changed  ; 
fo  it  is,  for  the  fame  reafon,  ju(l  fo  impoflible  that 
the  fore  known  event  (liould  not  exift  :  and  that  is 
to  be  impolhble  in  the  highcft  degree :  and  there- 
fore the  contrary  is  necefDiry.  Nothing  is  more  im- 
poffible  than  that  the  immutable  God  (hould  be 
changed,  by  the  fuccelfion  of  time;  who  compre- 
hends all  things,  from  eternity  to  eternity,  in  one, 
mod  perfe^l,  and  unalterable  view  ;  fo  that  his  whole 
eternal  duration  is  vitd'  inierminabilis,  tola,  Jiviid^  ^ 
per  [tela  poj^jfio. 

On  the  whole,  I  need  not  fear  to  fay,  that  there  is 
no  geometrical  theorem  or  propofition  whatfbever, 
more  capable  of  (tricl  demonllration,  than  that  God  s 
certain  prefcience  of  the  voliuons  of  moral  agents  is 
inconfiilent  with  fuch  a  contingence  of  thel'e  events, 
as  is  without  all  Necefiity  ;  and  fo  is  inconfiilent 
wiih  the  Arminian  notion  of  liberty. 

CoroL  2.  Hence  the  do6lrine  of  the  Calvinijls, 
concerning  the  abfolute  decrees  of  God,  does  not  at 
all  infer  any  more  fatality  in  things,  than  will  de- 
monftrably  follow  from  the  do6liine  of  mod  Ar^ 
minian  divines,  who  acknowledge  God's  omnilcience, 
and  univerfal  prefcience.  Therefore  all  objedions 
they  make  again  (I  the  dodlrine  of  the  Calvin^Jis^  as 
implying  Hobbe's  do6lrine  of  NecefFity,  or  the^^ozV^/ 
do6lrine  oifate^  lie  no  more  againfL  the  do6lrme  of 
Calvinijls,  than  their  own  doctrine  :  and  therefore  it 
doth  not  become  thofe  divines,  to  raife  fuch  an  out- 
cry againfl:  the  Calvmijls,  on  this  account. 

CoroL  3.  Hence  all  arguing  fiom  Neceflity,  againft 
Z 


170  Axxmm2in  Lihcrly  inconfijlent.       Part  II. 

the  do6lilne  of  the  inability  of  unregenerate  men  to 
perform  the  conditions  of  falvation,  and  the  com- 
mands of  God  requiring  fpiritual  duties,  and  againft 
the  Calvini/iic  do6lrine  of  efficacious  grace;  I  fay, 
all  arguings  of  Ann??iians  (fuch  of  them  as  own  God's 
omnifcience)  againfl  thefe  things,  on  this  ground, 
that  thefe  dodlrines,  though  they  do  not  fuppofe 
men  to  be  under  any  conllraint  or  coa6tion,  yet  fup- 
pofe them  under  Neceility,  with  refpeSl  to  their  mor- 
al a£lions,  and  thofe  things  which  are  required  of 
them  in  order  to  their  acceptance  with  God;  and 
their  arguing  againll  the  Nece(Iity  of  men's  volitions, 
taken  from  the  reafonablenefs  of  God's  commands, 
promifes,  and  threatenings,  and  the  fincerity  of  his 
counfels  and  invitations ;  and  all  objections  againft 
any  do£trines  of  the  Calvinijls  as  being  ifjconfiftent 
with  human  liberty,  becaufe  they  infer  Neceffity  ;  I 
fay,  all  thefe  arguments  and  obje6lions  mull  fall  to 
the  ground,  and  be  juftly  efteemed  vain  and  frivo- 
lous, as  coming  from  them  ;  being  maintained  in  an 
inconfiflence  with  themfeives,  and  in  like  manner 
levelled  againft  their  own  do6lrine,  as  againft  the 
dodrine  of  the  Calvinijls, 


Section     XIIL 

Whether  we  fuppofe  the  volitions  of  moral  agents  to  be 
connelled  with  any  thing  antecedent^  or  not,  yet  they 
mufl  be  neceffary  in  fuch  afcnfe  as  to  overthrow  Ar- 
mmian  Liberty, 

ill  VERY  a 61  of  the  Will  has  a  caufe,  or  it  has  not. 
If  it  has  a  caufe,  then,  according  to  what  has  already 
been  demonilratcd,  it  is  not  contingent,  but  neceffa- 
ry ;  the  effe6l  being  nccelfaiily  dependent  and  con- 


Std:.  XIII.     Both  Ntcejjily  and  Contingence,  &c.    171 

fequent  on  its  caufe  ;  and  thai:,  let  the  caufe  be 
what  it  will.  If  the  caufe  is  the  Will  itfelf,  by 
antecedent  a6ls  choofing  and  determining;  flijl  the 
determined  and  caiifed  a6t  muft  be  a  nccellary  effc6l. 
The  a6i:,  that  is  the  determined  efFed  of  the  forego- 
ing a6l  which  is  its  caufe,  cannot  prevent  the  effi- 
ciency of  its  caufe;  but  muft  be  wholly  fubjc6l  to 
its  determination  and  command,  as  much  as  the  mo- 
tions of  the  hands  and  feet.  The  confequent  com- 
manded ads  of  the  Will  are  as  paflive  and  as  necef- 
fary,  with  refpeft  to  the  antecedent  determining  afts 
as  the  parts  of  the  body  are  to  the  volitions  which 
determine  and  command  them.  And  therefore,  if 
all  the  free  a6ls  of  the  Will  are  thus,  if  they  are  all 
determined  efFeds,  determined  by  the  Will  itfelf, 
that  is,  determined  by  antecedent  choice,  then  they 
are  all  neceffary ;  they  are  all  fubje6l  to,  and  decif- 
ively  fixed  by  the  foregoing  a6l,  which  is  their  caufe  : 
yea,  even  the  determining  a6l  itfelf ;  for  that  muft  be 
determined  and  fixed  hy  another  a6l,  preceding  that, 
if  it  be  a  free  and  voluntary  a£l ;  and  fo  muft  be 
neceffary.  So  that  by  this  all  the  free  a6ls  of  the 
Will  are  neceffary,  and  cannot  be  free  unlefs  they 
are  neceffary:  becaufe  they  cannot  be  free,  accord- 
ing to  the  Arminian  notion  of  freedom,  unlefs  they 
are  determined  by  the  Will  ;  which  is  to  be  deter- 
mined by  antecedent  choice;  which  being  their 
caufe,  proves  them  neceffary.  And  yet  they  fay, 
Neceffity  is  utterly  inconfiftent  with  Liberty.  So 
that,  by  their  fcheme,  the  ads  of  the  Will  cannot  be 
free,  unlefs  they  are  neceffary,  and  yet  cannot  be 
free  if  they  be  not  neceffary  ! 

But  if  the  other  part  of  the  dilemma  be  taken, 
and  if  it  be  affirmed  that  the  free  a6ls  of  the  Will 
have  no  caufe,  and  are  conneded  with  nothing 
whatfoever  that  goes  before  the.m  and  determines 
them,  in  order  to  maiatain  their  proper  and  ablolute 


372  Both  Neccffity" and  Contingentc         Part  II. 

contingcnce,  and  this  fhould  be  allowed  to  be  pof- 
fible;  Hill  it  will  not  ferve  their  turn.  For  if  the 
volition  come  to  pafs  by  pcrfe61:  contingence,  and 
without  any  caufe  at  all,  then  it  is  certain,  no  acb 
of  the  Will,  no  prior  act  of  the  foul  was  the  caufe, 
no  determination  or  choice  of  the  foul,  had  any 
band  in  it.  The  Will,  or  the  foul,  was  indeed  the 
fubje6l  of  what  happened  to  it  accidentaly,  but  was 
X10C  the  caufe.  The  Will  is  not  adive  in  caufing  or 
determining,  but  purely  the  paffive  fubjeO:;  at  lead, 
according  10  their  notion  of  adion  and  palFion.  In 
this  cafe,  cojtingence  does  as  much  prevent  the  de^ 
termmation  of  the  Will,  as  a  properxaufe;  and  as 
to  the  Will,  it  was  necelfary,  and  could  be  no  oth- 
erwife.  For  to  fuppofe  that  it  could  have  beenoth- 
erwifc,  if  the  Will  or  foul  had  pleafed,  is  to  fuppofe 
that  the  a6i  is  dependent  on  fome  prior  a6l  of  choice 
or  pleafure;  contrary  to  what  is  now  fuppofed  :  it 
is  to  fuppofe  that  it  might  have  been  otherwife,  if  its 
caufe  had  made  it  or  ordered  it  otherwife.  But  this 
does  not  agree  to  its  having  no  caufe  or  crderer 
at  all.  That  mud  be  neceifary  as  to  the  foul: 
which  is  dependent  on  no  free  a6l  of  the  foul  :  but 
that  which  is  without  a  caufe,  is  dependent  on  no 
free  act  of  the  foul :  becaufe,  by  the  fuppolition,  it 
is  dependent  on  nothing, and  is  conne6led  with  noth- 
ing. In  fuch  a  cafe,  the  foul  is  necellavily  fubje61:- 
ed  to  what  accident  brings  to  pafs,  from  time  totimc, 
as  much  as  the  earth,  that  is  inaftive,  is  necefrarily 
fubje6lcd  to  what  falls  upon  it.  But  this  does  not 
confift  with  the  Arminian  notion  of  Liberty,  which 
is  the  Will's  power  of  determining  itfelf  in  its  own 
a6ls,  and  being  wholly  a6live  in  it,  without  palF- 
ivenefs,  and  without  being  fubjcCl  to  Neceflity. — 
Thus,  Contingence  belongs  to  the  ylrviinian  notion 
pf  Liberty,  and  yet  is  inconfiilent  with  it. 

1  would  herq  obferve,  that  the  author  of  the  EJfay 


Se6l.  XIII.    inconjijlent  with  Axminhn  Liherly,    173 

on  the  Freedom  of  Will,  in  God  and  the  Creature,  page 
76,  J  J,  fays  as  follows  :  "  The  word  Chance  always 
**  means  fomcthing  done  without  tlcTign.  Chance 
"  and  defiga  (land  m  dire£t  oppofition  to  each  oiher : 
'•  and  chance  can  never  be  properly  applied  to  a6t& 
*'  of  the  Will,  which  is  the  Ipring  of  ail  defign,  and 
*'  which  defigns  to  choofe  whatfoever  it  doth  choofc, 
**  whether  there  be  any  fuperior  fitnefs  in  the  thing 
*'  which  it  choofes,  or  no  ;  and  it  defigns  to  dcter- 
"  mine  itfelf  to  one  thing,  where  two  things,  perfetl:- 
**  ly  equal,  are  propofed,  merely  becaufe  it  will." 
But  herein  it  appears  a  very  great  inadvertence  in 
this  author.  For  if  the  Will  be  thefpring  of  all  deftgn, 
as  he  fays,  then  certainly  it  is  not  always  the  effecl  of 
defign;  and  the  a6ls  of  the  Will  themfelves  mud 
fometimes  come  to  pafs,  when  they  do  not  fpring 
from  defign  ;  and  confcquently  come  to  pafs  by 
chance,  according  to  his  own  definition  of  chance. 
And  if  the  Will  defigns  to  choofe  -whatfoever  it  does  choofe, 
and  defigns  to  determine  itfelf^  as  he  fays,  th^n  it  de- 
figns to  determine  ail  its  defigns.  Which  carries  us 
back  from  one  defign  to  a  foregoing  defign  determin- 
ing that,  and  to  another  determining  that ;  and  fo 
on  in  infnitum.  The  very  fir  ft  defign  mull  be  the 
cffeft  of  foregoing  defign,  or  elfe  it  muft  be  by 
chance,  in  his  notion  of  it. 

Here  another  alternative  may  be  propofed,  relating 
to  the  connexion  of  the  a6ls  of  the  Will  with  fome- 
thing  foregoing  that  is  their  caufe,  not  much  unlike 
to  the  other  ;  whidi  is  this  :  either  human  liberty  is 
fuch,  that  it  m;iWwell  fiand  with  volitions  being 
neceifarily  conne6led  with  the  views  of  the  under- 
flanding,  and  fo  is  confident  with  NeceflTity  ;  or  it  is 
inconfiftent  with,  and  contrary  to,  fuch  a  connexion 
and  Neceffit)'.  The  former  is  diredly  fubverfive  of 
the  Arminian  notion  of  liberty,  confiding  in  freedom 
from  all  Neceifity.     And  if  the  latter  be  chofen,  and 


174         Both  Necejfity  and  Contingence,  &c.     Part  II. 

it  be  faid,  that  liberty  is  inconfiftent  with  any  fuch 
neceffary  connexion  of  volition  with  foregoing  views 
of  the  underftanding,  it  confiding  in  freedom  from 
any  fuch  Necpffity  of  the  Will  as  that  would  imply  ; 
then  the  liberty  of  the  foul  confifts  (in  part  at  lead) 
in  the  freedom  from  reftraint,  limitation  and  govern- 
ment, in  its  a6lings,  by  the  underftanding,  and  in 
liberty  and  liablenefs  to  a6l  contrary  to  the  under- 
flandmg's  views  and  di6lates  :  and  confequently  the 
more  the  foul  has  of  this  difengagednefs,  in  its  a6ling, 
the  more  liberty.  Now  let  it  be  confidered  whai 
this  brings  the  noble  principle  of  human  liberty  to, 
particularly  when  it  is  potTeffecl  and  enjoyed  in  its 
perfe6lion,  viz,  a  full  and  perfe6l  freedom  and  liable- 
nefs to  a6l  altogether  at  random,  without  the  leafl 
connexion  wilh,  or  re&raint  or  government  by,  any 
diftate  of  reafon,  or  any  thing  whatfoever  apprehend- 
ed, confidered  or  viewed  by  the  underftanding  ;  as 
being  inconfiftent  with  the  full  and  perfe6l  fover- 
eignty  of  the  Will  over  its  own  determinations.  The 
notion  mankind  have  conceived  of  liberty,  is  fome 
dignity  or  privilege,  fomething  worth  claiming.  But 
what  dignity  or  privilege  is  there,  in  being  up  to  fuch 
a  wild  contingence  as  this,  to  be  perfectly  and  con- 
flant'y  liable  to  a6l  unintelligently  and  unreafonably, 
and  as  much  without  the  guidance  of  underftanding, 
as  if  we  had  none,  or  were  as  deftitute  of  percep- 
tion, as  the  fmoke  that  is  driven  by  the  wind  ! 


PART       III, 


Wherein  is  enquired,  whether  any  fuch  liberty  of  Will  as 
Arminians  hold,  be  necejfary  to  Moral  Agency, 
Virtue  and  V^ice,  Praise  and  Dispraise,  ^c. 


Section     I. 

GOD's  moral  Excellency  necejfary,  yet  virtuous  and 
praife-worthy, 

Ixaving  confidered  ihcjirjl  thing  that  was  propof- 
cd  to  be  enquired  into,  relating  to  that  freedom  of 
Will  which  Arminians  maintain ;  namely,  Whetlier 
any  fuch  thing  does,  ever  did,  or  ever  can  exift,  or 
be  conceived  of ;  I  come  now  to  ihe  fecond  thing 
propofed  to  be  the  fubje6t  of  enquiry,  viz.  Whether 
any  fuch  kind  of  liberty  be  requifite  to  moral  agen- 
cy, virtue  and  vice,  praife  and  blame,  reward  and 
punifhment,  &c, 

I  (hall  begin  with  fome  confideration  of  the  virtue 
and  agency  of  the  fupreme  moral  agent,  and  fountain 
of  all  agency  and  virtue. 

Dr.  Whitby,  in  his  difcourfe  on  the  five  Points, 
p.  14,  fays,  **  If  all  human  actions  are  neceflary, 
**  virtue  and  vice  mull  be  empty  names  ;  we  being 
*'  capable  of  nothing  that  is  blame-worthy,  or  de- 
**  ferveth  praife  ;  for  ivho  can  blame  a  perfon  for 
**  doing  only  what  he  could  not  help,  or  judge  that 
**  he  deferveth  praife  only  for  what  he  could  not 
**  avoid  ?"     To  the  like  purpole  he  fpeaks  in  places 


176        God's  moral  Excellency  7ieceJJary,     Part  III, 

innumerable;  efpecially  in  his  difcourfe  on  the  Free^ 
dorn  of  the  Will;  conftantly  maintaining,  that  2i  free^ 
dam  not  only  from  coaclion,  but  neceJfUy,  is  abfoiutely 
requifite,  in  order  to  a6lions  being  either  worthy  of 
blame,  or  deferving  of  praife.  And  to  this  agrees, 
as  is  well  known,  the  current  dodrine  of  Arminian 
writers,  who,  in  general,  hold,  that  there  is  no  virtue 
or  v'\CQ,  reward  or  punilhment,  nothing  to  be  com- 
mended or  blamed,  without  this  freedom.  And  yet 
D\\  Whitby,  p.  300,  allows,  that  God  is  without 
this  freedom  ;  and  Arminians,  fo  far  as  I  have  had 
opportunity  to  obferve,  generally  acknowledge  that 
God  is  necedarily  holy,  and  bis  Will  neceffarily  de- 
termined to  that  which  is  good. 

So  that,  putting  thefe  things  together,  the  infinitely 
holy  God,  who  ufed  always  to  be  eftcemed  by  God's 
people  not  only  virtuous,  but  a  Being  in  whom  is  all 
poffiblc  virtue,  and  every  virtue  in  the  moll  abfolute 
purity  and  perfedlion,  and  in  infinitely  greater  bright- 
nefs  and  amiablenefs  than  in  any  creature ;  the  mod 
perfefl  pattern  of  virtue,  and  the  fountain  from 
whom  all  others  virtue  is  but  as  beams  from  the  fun  ; 
and  who  has  been  fuppofed  to  be,  on  the  account  of 
his  virtues  and  holinefs,  infinitely  more  worthy  to  be 
efteemed,  loved,  honoured,  admired,  commended, 
extolled  and  praifed,  than  any  creature  :  and  He, 
who  is  thus  every  where  reprefented  in  Scripture ;  I 
fay,  this  Being,  according  to  this  notion  of  Dr.  Whit- 
by, and  other  Arminians,  has  no  virtue  at  all :  virtue, 
when  afcribed  to  him,  is  but  an  empty  name  ;  and  he 
is  deferving  of  no  commendation  or  praife  :  becaufe 
he  is  under  neceflity.  He  cannot  avoid  being  holy 
and  good  as  he  is  ;  therefore  no  thanks  to  him  for  ir. 
It  fcems,  the  holinefs,  juflice,  faithfulnefs,  &c.  of  the 
Moll  High,  muft  not  be  accounted  to  be  of  the  na- 
ture of  that  which  is  virtuous  and  praife- worthy. 
They  will  not   deny,   that  thefe  things  in  God  are 


Se6l.  I.       ^^^  virtuous  <2;iJ  praife- worthy.  177 

good  ;  but  then  v/erhuH;  underfland  them,  that  they 
are  no  more  Virtuous,  or  of  the  nature  of  any  thin^ 
commendable,  than  the  good  that  is  in  any  other 
being  that  is  not  amoral  agent  ;  as  the  brightnefs  of 
the  fun,  and  the  feriility  of  the  earth,  are  good,  but 
not  virtuous,  becaufe  thefe  properties  are  necelFary 
to  thefc  bodies,  and  not  the  fruit  of  feif-determining 
power. 

There  needs  no  other  confutation  of  this  notion  of 
God's  not  being  virtuous  or  praife-worrhy,  to  chrif- 
tians  acquainted  with  the  Bible,  but  only  dating  and 
particularly  reprefenting  of  it.  To  bring  texts  of 
Scripture,  wherein  God  is  reprefented  as  in  every 
refpeQ,  in  the  higheft  manner  virtuous,  and  fupreme- 
ly  praife-worthy,  would  be  endlefs,  and  is  altogether 
needlefs  to  fuch  as  have  been  brought  up  in  the  light 
of  the  gofpel. 

It  were  to  be  wiflied,  that  Dr.  Whitby,  and  other 
divines  of  the  fame  fort,  had  explained  themfelves, 
when  they  have  afferted,  that  that  which  is  necefTary, 
is  not  dejerving  of  praife  ;  at  the  fame  time  that  they 
have  owned  God's  perfe6lion  to  be  neceflfary,  and 
fo  in  Q^c^  reprefenting  God  as  notdeierving  praife. 
Certainly,  if  their  words  have  any  meaning  at  all,  by 
()raift,  they  mud  mean  the  exercife  or  teftimony  of 
fome  forts  of  efleem,  refpefl;  or  honourable  regard. 
And  will  they  then  fay,  that  men  are  wouhy  of  that 
eileem,  refpeQ:  and  honour  for  their  virtue,  fmall 
iind  imperfeQ:  as  it  is,  which  yet  God  is  not  worthy 
of,  for  his  infinite  righteoufnefs,  holinefs  and  good- 
nefs  ?  If  lo,  it  mufl  be,  becaufe  of  fome  fort  of  pe- 
culiar Excellency  in  the  virtuous  man,  which  is  his 
prerogative,  wherein  he  really  has  the  preference  ; 
fome  dignity,  that  is  entirely  diflinguilhed  from  any 
Excellency,  amiablenefs  or  honourablenefs  in  God  : 
not  in  imperfcdion  and  dependence,  but  in  pre-emi- 
nence :  which  therefore  he   does  not  receive  from 

A2 


178  Concerning  GOD's  Virtue.        Part  III. 

(}od,  nor  is  God  the  fountain  or  pattern  of  it  ;  nor 
can  God,  in  that  refpe^:,  ftand  in  competition  with 
him,  as  the  object  of  honor  and  regard  ;  but  man 
may  claim  a  peruliar  efteem,  commendation  and 
^lorv^  that  God  can  have  no  pretenfion  to.  Yea, 
God  has  no  right,  by  virtue  of  his  necelTary  holi- 
nefs,  to  intermeddle  with  that  grateful  refpeci  and 
piaife,  due  to  the  virtuous  man,  who  choofes  virtue, 
in  the  exercife  of  a  freedom  ad  utrumque  ;  any  more 
than  a  precious  flone,  which  cannot  avoid  being 
hard  and  beautiful. 

And  if  it  be  fo,  let  it  be  explained  what  that  pecul- 
iar refpe6l  is,  that  is  due  to  the  virtuous  man,  which 
differs  in  nature  and  kind,  in  Tome  way  of  pre-em- 
inence, from  all  that  is  due  to  God.  What  is  the 
name  or  defcription  of  that  peculiar  affedion  ?  Is 
it  efteem,  love,  admiration,  honor,  praife  or  grati- 
tude ?  The  Scripture  every  wh^rc  reprefents  God 
as  the  higheft  obje6i;  of  all  thefe  :  there  w^e  read  of 
i\\^  foul's  magnifying  the  Lord^  of  loving  Him  tuith  all 
the  heart,  with  all  the  foul,  with  all  the  mind,  and  with 
all  theflreiigth  ;  admiring  Him,  and  his  righteous  acts, 
or  greatly  regarding  them,  as  marvelloui  and  wonder- 
ful ;  honouring,  glorifying,  exalting,  extolling,  hleffmg, 
thanking  and  praifmg  Him  ;  giving  unto  Him  all  the 
glory  oi  iViG,  good  which  is  done  or  received,  rather 
than  unto  men  ;  that  no  flefa  fiiould  glory  in  his  pref 
ence  ;  but  that  He  fhould  be  regarded  as  the  Being 
to  whom  all  glory  is  due.  What  then  is  that  re- 
fpe6l  ?  What  paftion,  alFedion  or  exercife  is  it,  that 
Arminians  call  praife,  diverfe  from  all  thefe  things, 
which  men  are  worthy  of  for  their  virtue,  and  which 
God  is  not  worthy  of,  in  any  degree  ? 

If  that  necellity  which  attends  God's  moral  per- 
fe6lions  and  adlions,  be  as  inconfiftent  with  a  Being 
worthy  of  praife,  as  a  necefhiy  of  co-a6tion  ;  as  is 
plainly  implied  in,    or  inferred  from  Dr.  Whitby's 


Sc6t.  I.  Concerning  GOD\s  Virtue.  lyg 

difcouiTe;  then  why  fliould  we  thank  God  for  his 
goodnefs,  any  more  than  if  He  were  forced  to  be 
good,  or  any  more  than  we  fliould  thank  one  of  our 
fellow-creatures  who  did  us  good,  not  freely,  and  of 
good  will,  or  from  any  kindnefs  of  heart,  but  from 
mere  compulfion,  or  extrinfical  neceflity  ?  Arminians 
fuppofc,  that  God  is  neceiTarily  a  good  and  gracious 
Being  :  for  this  they  make  tlie  ground  of  fome  of 
their  main  arguments  againfl  many  do6t;rines  main- 
tained by  Calvinifts ;  they  fay,  thefc  are  certainly 
falfe,  and  it  is  impojfihlc  they  fhould  be  true,  becaufe 
they  are  not  confillent  with  the  goodnefs  of  God. 
This  fuppofes,  that  it  is  impojfible  but  that  God 
fhould  be  good  :  for  if  it  be  poflible  that  He  fliould 
be  otherwife,  then  that  impoffibility  of  the  truth  of 
thefe  dodrines  ceafes,  according  to  their  own  argu- 
ment. 

The  virtue  in  God  is  not,  in  the  mod  proper 
fenfe,  rewardable,  is  not  for  want  of  merit  in  his 
moral  perfedions  and  a6tions,  fufficient  to  deferve 
rewards  from  his  creatures ;  but  becaufe  He  is  in- 
finitely above  ail  capacity  of  receiving  any  reward 
or  benefit  from  the  creature:  He  is  already  infinite- 
ly and  unchangeably  happy,  and  we  cannot  be  prof- 
itable unto  him.  But  (lill  he  is  worthy  of  our  fu- 
preme  benevolence  for  his  virtue  ;  and  would  be 
worthy  of  our  beneficence,  which  is  the  fruit  and 
expreilion  of  benevolence,  if  our  goodnefs  could  ex- 
tend to  Him.  IF  God  defervcs  to  be  thanked  and 
praifed  for  his  goodnefs,  He  would,  for  the  fame 
reafon,  deferve  that  we  fliould  alfo  requite  his  kind- 
nefs, if  that  were  pofTible.  What  jhall  I  render  to  the 
Lord  for  all  his  henejits  ?  is  the  natural  language  of 
thankfulnefs :  and  io  far  as  in  us  lies,  it  is  our  duty 
to  recompenfe  God's  goodnefs,  and  render  again  ac^ 
cording  to  benefits  received.  And  that  we  might  have 
opportunity  for  fo  natural  an  expreffionof  our  grat* 


i8o  The  Acls  of  the  Will  of  Chrifl,       Part  III. 

itude  to  God,  as  beneficence,  notwitbftanding  his 
being  infinitely  above  our  reach  :  He  has  appointed 
others  to  be  his  receivers,  and  to  fland  in  his  (lead, 
as  the  objedls  of  our  beneficence  ;  fuch  are  efpe- 
daily  our  indigent  brethren. 


Section     II. 

The  ABs  of  the  Will  of  the  human  foul  of  ]ksvs  Christ, 
neceflarily  holy,  yet  truly  virtuous,  prafc-worihy,  re- 
zoardable,  Sec. 

1  HAVE  already  conlidered  how  Dr.  Whitby  infifts 
upon  it,  that  a  freedom,  not  only  from  coa6lion,  but 
neceffity,  is  requifte  either  to  virtue,  vice,  praife  or  dif 
praife,  reward  or  punifiment.  He  alfo  infifts  on  the 
lame  freedom  as  abfolutely  requifite  to  a  perfon's 
being  the  fubje6t  of  a  law,  of  precepts  or  prohibitions  ; 
in   the  book    beforementioned,   (p.  301,   314,  328, 

-339»  340,  341.  342,  347'  361'  373'  4io.)     And  of 
promifes  and  ihreatenings,  (p.   298,  301,   305,    311,' 
339'  340»  3^3-)     ^^^  '^^  requifite  to  a  fate  of  trial, 
(p.  297,  &c.) 

Now  therefore,  with  an  eye  to  thefe  things,  I  would 
inquire  into  the  moral  conduft  and  pra6iiccs  of  our 
Lord  jefus  Chrift,  which  he  exhibited  in  his  human 
nature  here,  in  his  ftate  of  humiliation.  Andifirfl,  I 
would  fhew,  that  his  holy  behaviour  was  neceffary  ; 
or  that  it  was  impoffible  it  (hould  be  othervvife,  than 
that  He  fhould  behave  himfelf  holily,  and  that  he 
fhould  be  perfc6lly  holy  in  each  individual  a6i  of 
his  life.  And  fecondly,  that  his  holy  behaviour  was 
properly  the  nature  oi  virtue  and  was  worthy  0/ praife  ; 
and  that  he  was  the  fubje^l  of  /c/w,  precepts  or  com- 
mands, promifes  and  rewards;  and  that  he  was  in  a 
Jlate  of  trial. 


Sc6l.  11.  ncccflTarily  holy,  i8t 

I.  It  was  imppjfihk,  that  the  a6ts  of  the  Will  of  the 
human  foul  of  Clirifl;  fhould,  in  any  inftance,  degree 
or  circumftance,  be  otherwife  than  holy,  and  agreea- 
ble to  God's  nature  and  will.  The  following  things 
make  this  evident : 

1.  God  had  promiled  fo  effe8ually  to  preferve 
and  uphold  Him  by  his  Spirit,  under  all  his  tempta- 
tions, that  he  could  not  fail  of  reaching  the  end  for 
which  He  came  into  the  world  ;  which  he  would 
have  failed  of,  had  he  fallen  into  fin.  We  have  fuch 
a  promife,  Ifai.  xliii.  i,  2,  3,  4,  Behold  7ny  Servant^ 
xvhom  I  uphold  ;  fiiine  ElcB,  in  whom  my  foul  delighieth  : 
I  have  put  my  Spirit  npo?i  him  :  He  JJiall  bring  Jorih 
judgment  to  the  Gentiles :  lie  fiall  net  cry,  nor  lift  up.  nor 
caufe  his  voice  to  be  heard  in  the  ftreet. — Hejhall  bring 
forth  judgment  unto  truth.^  HefJiall  not  fail  nor  be  dif 
courged,  till  He  have  fd  judgment  in  the  earth  ;  and  the 
iflei  fiall  wait  his  law.  This  promife  of  Chrifl's  hav- 
ing God's  Spiiit  put  upon  Him,  and  his  not  crying 
and  lifting  up  his  voice,  &c.  relates  to  the  time  of 
Chrifl's  appearance  on  earth;  as  is  manifefl  from  the 
nature  of  the  promife,  and  alfo  the  application  of  it 
in  the  New  Teftament,  Matthew  xii.  18.  And  the 
words  imply  a  promife  of  his  being  fo  upheld  by 
God's  Spirit,  that  he  (hould  be  preferved  from  fin  ; 
particularly  from  pride  and  vain-glory,  and  from 
being  overcome  by  any  of  the  temptations,  he  (hould 
be  under  to  eflPed  the  glory  of  this  world,  the  pomp 
of  an  earthly  prince,  or  the  applaufe  and  praife  of 
men  :  and  that  he  (Iiould  be  fo  upheld,  that  he  (hould 
hy  no  means  fail  of  obtaining  the  end  of  his  coming 
into  the  world,  of  bringing  forth  judgment  unto 
viftory,  and  eftablilhing  his  kingdom  of  grace  in  the 
earth.  And  in  the  following  verfes,  this  promife  is 
confirmed,  with  the  greatcfl  imaginable  folemnity. 
Thus  faith  the  LORD,  HE  that  created  the  heavens,  and 
flrctched  them  out ;  He  that  fpread  forth  the  earth,  and 


i82  The  A5ls  of  the  Will  g^Chrift,       Part  III. 

that  which  comelh  out  of  it ;  lie  that  givcth  breath  unto 
the  people  upon  it,  and  fpirit  to  them  that  walk  therein  : 
I  the  Lord  have  called  Thee  in  rigkteoufnefs,  and  will  hold 
thine  hand  ;  and  will  keep  thee,  and  give  thee  for  a  cov- 
enant of  the  people,  for  a  light  of  the  Gentiles,  to  open  the. 
blind  eyes,  to  bring  out  the  pr  if  oners  frora  the  prifon,  and 
them  that  fet  in  darknefs  out  of  the  prifon- hoife,  I  am 
JEHOVAH,  that  is  my  name,  Sec. 

Very  parallel  with  thefe  promifes  is  that,  Ifai. 
xlix.  7,  8,  9,  which  alfo  has  an  apparent  refpect  to 
the   time  of   Chrift's   humiliation    on   earth.      Thus 

faith  the  Lord,  the  Redeemer  of  I frael,  and  his  Holy  One, 
to  him  whom  man  defpifeth,  to  him  whom  the  nation  ah- 
horreth,  to  a  Servant  of  the  rulers;  kings  fhall  fee  and 
arife,  princes  alfo  fhall  worfiip  ;  hecaufeofthe  Lord  that 
is  faithful,  and  the  Holy  Oneof  Jfrael,  and  he  f'lall  choofe 
Thee.  Thus  faith  the  Lord,  in  an  acceptable  tivie  have 
J  heard  Thee ;  in  a  day  offalvation  have  I  helped  Thee  ; 
end  I  zoill  prcfcrve  Thee,  and  give  Thee  for  a  covenant 
of  the  people,  to  cfablifh  the  earth,  Sec. 

And  in  Ifai.  1.  5 — 6,  we  have  the  Meffiah  exprefT- 
ing  his  affurance,  that  God  would  help  Him,  by  fo 
opening  his  ear,  or  inclining  his  heart  to  God's  corn- 
mendments  that  He  fhould  not  be  rebeliious,  buG 
fhould  perfevere,  and  not  apoftatize,  or  turn  his 
back  ;  that  through  God's  help,  He  fhould  be  im- 
moveable, in  a  way  of  obedience,  under  the  great 
trials  of  reproach  and  fufFering  he  fhould  meet  with  • 
fetting  his  face  like  a  flint :  {'o  that  He  knew,  He 
fhould  not  be  alliamed,  or  frullrated  in  his  defign, 
and  finally  fhould  be  approved  and  juflified,  ashav^ 
jng  done  his  work  faithfully.  The  Lord  hath  opened 
mine  ear ;  fo  that  I  was  not  rebellious^  neither  turned  a- 
way  my  back :  7  gave  my  hack  to  the  fmiters,  and  my 
cheeks  to  them  that  plucked  off  the  hair  ;  I  hid   not  my 

face  from  fhariie  and  fpitting.  For  the  Lord  God  zuill 
help  me;  therfure  Jhall  I  not  be  ccrfcMndcd ;  therefore,. 


Se6l.  II.  neceflfaiily  holy.  183 

have  I  Jet  myfdce  as  a  Jl'ird^  and  I  know  that  I  JJiall  not 
be  ajhamcd.  He  is  near  thatjnjlificth  me :  who  will  coiu 
tend  with  vie  ?  Let  ns  fiand  together.  Who  is  mine  ad- 
verfary  ?  Let  him  come  near  to  vie :  Behold  the  Lord 
God  will  help  me  :  who  is  he  that /hall  condemn  me  ?  Lo, 
they  Jiiall  all  wax  old  as  a  garment^  the  mothJJiall  eat 
them  up. 

2.  The  fame  thing  is  evident  from  all  the  prom- 
ifes  which  God  made  to  the  Mediah,  of  his  future 
glory,  kingdom  and  fuccefs,  in  his  oflice  and  charac- 
ter of  a  Mediator  :  which  gloiy  could  not  have  been 
obtained,  if  his  holinefs  had  failed,  and  he  had  been 
guilty  of  fin.  God's  abfolutc  promife  of  any  things 
makes  the  things  promifcd  necejfary,  and  their  fail- 
ing to  take  place  abfolutely  impo[[ibk  :  and,  in  like 
manner,  it  makes  thofe  things  neceirary,  on  which 
the  thing  promifed  depends,  and  without  which  it 
cannot  take  effect.  Therefore  it  appears,  that  it  was 
utterly  impoITible  that  Chrift's  holinefs  fliould  fail, 
from  fuch  abfolutc  promifes  as  thofe,  Pfal.  ex.  4, 
The  Lord  hath  fworn.  and  will  not  repent^  Thou  art  a 
Priejl  forever,  after  the  order  of  Mclchizedeck.  And 
from  every  other  promife  in  that  pfalm,  contained  in 
each  verfe  of  ir.  And  Pfal.  ii.  6,  7,  /  will  declare 
the  decree  :  The  Lord  hath  faid  unto  me,  Thou  art  my 
Son,  this  day  have  I  begotten  Thee  :  Afk  of  me,  and  I 
will  give  Ihee  the  Lleathen  for  thine  inheritance.  Sec. 
Pfal.  xlv.  3,  4,  Sec,  Gird  thy  fword  on  thy  thigh,  0 
niofl  Mighty,  with  thy  Glory  and  thy  Majefiy  ;  and  in, 
thy  MajcJIy  ride  profperoujly.  And  fo  every  thing 
that  is  laid  from  thence  to  the  end  of  the  Pfalm. 
And  thofe  promifes,  Ifai.  iii.  13,  14,  15,  and  liii.  io, 
11,  12.  And  all  thofe  prcmiles  which  God  makes 
to  the  iVIeiii.ih,  of  fuccefs,  dominion  and  glory  in  the 
chaia^er  of  a  Redeemer,  in  liai.  chap.  xlix. 

3.  It  was  oiten  promifed  to  the  Church  of  God  of 
old,  for  their  conilort,  that  Gud  would  oive  them  a 


i84  Tht  ABs  of  the  Will  /Chrift,      Part  III. 

righteous,  Gnlefs  Saviour.  Jer.  xxiii.  5,  6,  Behold,  the 
days  come,  faith  the  Lord,  that  I  will  raije  up  unto  Da- 
vid a  righteous  Branch  ;  and  a  King  Jhall  reign  and 
frofper,  and  fiall  execute  jndgnient  and  jiijlice  in  the 
earth.  In  his  days  Jhall  jiidah  be  faved,  and  Ifrael 
Jhall  dwell  fajdy.  And  this  is  the  name  xvherehy  He  Jhall 
hecallcdy  The  Lord  cur  Rightccufnefs.  So,  Jer.  xxxiii. 
15 — /  will  cauje  the  Branch  oj  Righteoujnejs  to  grow 
up  unto  David ;  and  heJJiall  execute  judgment  and  right- 
eovfnejs  in  the  land,  Ilai.  ix.  6,  7,  For  unto  us  a  Child 
is  born  ;  upon  the  throne  of  David  and  oJ  his  kingdom, 
to  order  it,  and  to  ejlahlifn  it  with  judgment  and  jufiice, 
from  henceforth,  even  for  ever  :  the  Zeal  of  the  Lord  of 
Hofls  will  do  this.  Chap.  xi.  at  the  beginning,  There 
fhall  come  forth  a  Rod  out  of  the  Stem  of  Jeffe,  and  a 
Branch  fhall  grow  out  of  his  Roots  ;  and  the  Spirit  of 
the  LordfJiall  reft  upon  Him — the  Spirit  of  Knowledge, 
and  the  Fear  of  the  Lord: — zuith  righteoufnefs  fhall  He 
judge  the  poor ^  and  reprove  with  equity  : — Righteoufnefs 
fhall  be  the  girdle  of  his  loins,  andfaithfulnefs  the  girdle  of 
his  reins.  Chap.  lii.  13,  My  Servant  fhall  deal  pru- 
dently. Chap.  liii.  9,  Becaufe  He  had  done  no  violence, 
neither  was  guile  found  in  his  mouth.  If  it  be  iinpoi- 
fible  that  thefc  promifes  fhculd  fail,  and  ie  be  eafier 
for  heaven  and  earth  to  pafs  away,  than  for  one  jot 
or  title  of  thefe  promifes  of  God  to  pafs  away,  then 
it  was  impoflible  that  God  fhould  commit  any  fin. 
Chrift  himfeif  fignified,  that  it  was  impoilible  but 
that  the  things  which  were  (poken  concerning  Him, 
Ihould  be  fulfilled.  Luke  xxiv.  44,  That  all  things 
mufi  be  fulflled,  which  were  written  in  the  law  of  Mofes, 
and  in  the  prophets,  and  in  the  Pfalms  concerning  Mc, 
Matt.  xxvi.  53,  54,  But  how  then  fhall  the  Scripture 
hefulflltd,  that  thus  it  mifl  be  ?  Mark  xiv.  49,  But  the 
Scriptures  muft  be  fulfilled.  And  fo  the  apofUe,  A6ts 
i.  16,  17,  This  Scripture  mufi  needs  have  been  fulfilled, 
4.  All   the   promifes,    which  were   made  to  the 


Se6t.  IL  necelTaiily  holy,  185 

Church  of  old.  of  the  Mefliah  as  a  future  Saviour, 
from  that  made  to  our  firfl  parents  in  Paradife,  to 
that  which  was  delivered  by  the  prophet  Malachi, 
fhew  it  to  be  impoffible  that  Chrift  lliould  not  have 
perfevcred  in  perfe6l  holinefs.  The  ancient  predic- 
tions given  to  God's  Church,  of  the  MefTiah  as  a  Sav- 
iour, were  of  the  nature  of  promifes ;  as  is  evident: 
by  the  predidlions  themfelves,  and  the  manner  of 
delivering  them.  But  they  are  exprefsiy,  and  very 
often  called  promifes  in  the  New  Teftament ;  as  in 
Luke  i.  54.  55,  72,  73.  A6is  xiii.  32,  33.  Rom,  i. 
1,  2,  3,  and  chap.  xv.  8.  Heb.  vi.  13,  &c.  Thcfe 
promifes  were  often  made  with  great  folemnity,  and 
confirmed  with  an  oath  ;  as  in  Gen.  xxii.  16,  17, 
By  my f elf  have  I  ftoorn,  faith  the  Lord,  that  in  blejfing, 
I  will  blefs  thee,  and  in  multiplying,  I  will  multiply  thy 
feed,  as  ihejlars  of  heaven,  and  as  the  f and  which  is  upon 
the  Jea-Jhort  ; — And  in  thy  feed  faall  all  the  nations  of 
the  earth  he  bkffed.  Compare  Luke  i.  72,  73,  and 
Gal.  iii,  8,  15,  16.  The  Apoflie  in  Heb.  vi.  17,  18, 
fpeaking  of  this  promife  to  Abraham,  fays,  Wherein 
God  willing  more  abundantly  to  facvj  to  the  heirs  of  prcm^ 
ift  the  immutability  of  his  couvfd,  confirmed  it  by  an  oath  ; 
that  by  tioo  IMMUTABLE  things,  in  which  it  was  IM^ 
POSSIBLE  for  God  to  lie,  he  might  havefrong  confo^ 
lation. — In  which  words,  the  ncceffUy  of  the  accom- 
plifhment,  or  (which  is  the  fame  thing)  the  impoffi^ 
hility  of  the  contrary,  is  fully  declared.  So  God 
confirmed  the  promife  of  the  great  falvation  of  the 
Melfiah,  made  to  David,  by  an  oath  ;  Pfal.  Ixxxix. 
3,  4,  /  have  made  a  covenant  with  my  chofcn,  I  have 
fcjorn  unto  David  my  fervant ;  thy  feed  will  I  cfahlifk 
forever,  and  build  up  thy  throne  to  all  generations.  There 
is  nothing  that  is  fo  abundantly  let  forth  in  Scrip- 
ture', as  fure  and  irrefragable,  as  this  promife  and 
oath  to  David.  See  Pfalm  Ixxxix.  34,  35,  36.  2 
Sam.  xxiii.  5.     Ifai.  iv.  4.     Ads  ii.  29,  30,  and  xiii, 

B2 


i86  Tht  Ads  of  the  Will  of  Cbrifl,     Part  III. 

34.  The  Scripture  exprefsly  fpeaks  of  it  as  utterly 
impcjfible  that  this  promife  and  oath  to  David,  con- 
cerning the  everlaRing  dominion  of  the  Mefliah  of 
his  feed,  (liould  fail.  Jer.  xxxiii.  15,  Sec,  In  thofe 
days,  and  at  that  time,  I  will  caufe  the  Branch  of  Right" 
eoufnefs  to  grow' up  unto  David. — For  thus  faith  the  Lord, 
David  Jhall  never  want  a  Man  to  fit  upon  the  throne  of 
the  Houfe  of  Ifrael. — Ver.  20,  21,  If  you  can  break  my 
covenant  of  the  day,  and  7ny  covenant  of  the  night,  and 
that  there  fiould-  not  be  day  and  night  in  their  feafon  ; 
then  may  alfo  my  covenant  be  broken  with  David  my  fer^ 
vant^  that  He  fiould  not  have  a  fon  to  reign  upon  his 
throne.  So  in  ver.  25,  26. — Thus  abundant  is  the 
Scripture  in  reprefenting  how  impoffible  it  was,  that 
the  promifes  made  of  old  concerning  the  great  fal- 
vation  and  kingdom  of  the  Mefliah  fliould  fail  ; 
which  implies,  that  it  was  impofiible  that  this  Mef- 
fiah,  the  fecond  Adam,  the  promifed  feed  of  Abra- 
ham, and  of  David,  Ihould  fall  from  his  integrity,  as 
the  firft  Adam  did. 

5.  All  the  promifes  that  were  made  to  the  Church 
of  God  under  the  Old  Teftament,  of  the  great  en- 
largement of  the  Church,  and  advancement  of  her 
glory,  in  the  days  of  the  gofpel,  after  the  coming  of 
the  Mefliah  ;  the  increale  of  her  light,  liberty,  holi- 
nefs,  joy,  triumph  over  her  enemies,  &c,  of  which  fo 
great  a  part  of  the  Old  Teilament  confifts  ;  which 
are  repeated  fo  often,  arc  fo  varioufly  exhibited,  fo 
frequently  introduced  with  great  pomp  and  folem- 
nity,  and  are  fo  abundantly  (ealed  with  typical  and 
lymbolical  reprefentations  ;  J  fay,  all  thefe  promifes 
imply,  that  the  Meffiah  (hould  perfe6l  the  work  of 
redemption  ;  and  this  implies,  that  he  (hould  perfe- 
vere  in  the  work,  which  the  Father  had  appointed 
Him,  being  in  all  things  conformed  to  his  Will. 
Thefe  promifes  were  often  confirmed  by  an  oath. 
(Sec  Ifai.  liv.  9,  with  the  context ;  chap.  Ixii.  18.) 


Se6l.  11.  neceflarily  holy,  187 

And  it  is  reprefented  as  utterly  impoflible  that  thefe 
promifes  fhould  fail.  (Ifai.  xlix.  15,  with  the  con- 
text ;  chap.  liv.  10,  with  thecontext ;  chap.  li.  4 — 8  ; 
chap.  xl.  8,  with  the  context.)  And  therefore  it  was 
impojfible  that  the  Mefliah  (hould  fail,  or  commit  fin. 

6.  It  was  impojfihk  that  the  Meffiah  fhould  fail  of 
perfevering  in  integrity  andholinefs,  as  the  firft  Ad- 
am did,  becaufe  this  would  have  been  inconfillcnt 
with  the  promifes,  which  God  made  to  the  bJeU'ed 
Virgin,  his  mother,  and  to  her  hufband ;  implying, 
that  He  Jhoidd  fave  his  people  from  their  fms^  that  God 
would  give  him  the  throne  oj  his  Father  David,  that  He 

Jhould  reign  over  the  houfe  of  Jacob  for  ever ;  and  that 
of  his  kingdom  there  fhall  be  no  end,  Thefe  promifes 
were  fure,  and  it  was  impoffible  they  fhould  fail. — 
And  therefore  the  Virgin  Mary,  in  trufliing  fully  to 
them,  a6led  reafonably,  having  an  immoveable  foun- 
dation of  her  faith  ,•  as  Elizabeth  obferves,  ver.  45, 
And  bleffed  isfhe  that  believeth  ;  for  there  fliall  be  aper^, 

formance  of  thofe  things,  which  were  told  her  from  the 
Lord,  ,  ^ 

7.  That  it  fliould  have  been  poflible  that  Chrift 
fhould  fin,  and  fo  fail  in  the,  work  of  our  redemp- 
tion, does  not  confift  with  the  eternal  purpofe  and 
decree  of  God,  revealed  in  the  Scriptures,  that  He 
would  provide  falvation  for  fallen  man  in  and  by 
jefus  Chrifl,  and  that  falvation  fhould  be  offered  to 
linners  through  the  preaching  of  the  Gofpel.  Such 
an  abfolute  decree  as  this,  Arminians  do  not  deny. — 
Thus  much  at  lead  (out  of  all  controverfy)  is  im- 
plied in  fuch  Scriptures,  as  i  Cor.  ii.  7.  Eph.  i.  4,  5, 
and  chap.  iii.  g,  10,  11.  1  Pet.  i.  19,  20.  Such  aa 
abfolute  decree  as  this,  Arminians  allow  to  be  figni- 
fied  in  thefe  texts.  And  the  Arminians'  ele6lion  of 
nations  and  focieties,  and  general  ele61ion  of  the 
Chriftian  Church,  and  conditional  election  of  partic- 
ular perfons,  imply  this,     God  could  not  decree  be- 


i88  The  Acls  of  the  Will  ofChn%      Part  III. 

fore  the  foundation  of  the  world,  to  fave  all  that 
fhould  believe  in,  and  obey  Chrifl,  uniefs  he  had 
abfolutely  decreed,  th'^t  falvation  fhouid  be  provided, 
and  efFe6tually  wrou;;ht  out  by  Chiiil.  And  fmce 
(as  the  Arminians  themreives  ftrenuoufly  maintain) 
a  decree  of  God  infers  neccjfity  ;  hence  it  became  ne- 
cejfary^  that  Chrift  (hould  perfevere.  and  actually 
work  out  falvation  for  us,  and  that  he  (hould  not  fail 
by  the  comrnifiion  of  fin. 

8.  That  it  fhouid  have  been  pofiible  for  Chrift's 
holinefs  to  fail,  is  not  confident  with  what  God 
promifcd  to  his  Son,  before  all  ages.  For,  that  fal- 
vation fhouid  be  offered  to  men,  through  Chrill,  and 
bellowed  on  all  his  faithful  followers,  is  what  is  at 
leaft  implied  in  that  certain  and  infallible  piomife 
fpoken  of  by  the  Apoftie,  Tit,  i.  2,  In  hope  of  eternal 
life ;  which  God,  that  cannot  lie,  promifcd  before  the 
tvorld  began.  This  does  not  feem  to  be  controverted 
by  Arininians'^ 

9,  That  it  fbould  be  poflTible  for  Chrifl  to  fail  of 
doing  his  Father*s  Will,  is  inconfiflent  with  the 
promife  made  to  the  Father  by  the  Son,  by  the  Logos 
that  was  with  the  Father  from  the  beginning,  before 
he  took  the  human  nature:  as  may  be  feen  in  Pfal. 
xl.  6,  7,  8,  (compared  with  the  Apoltle's  interpreta- 
tion, Heb.  X.  5 — 9,)  Sacrifce  and  offering  thou  didfl 
not  defirc :  mine  ears  haf  thou  opened,  (or  bored;) 
lumt'Offering  and  fm-oj^cring  Thou  haf  not  required. 
Then  faid  /,  Lo,  I  come  :  in  the  volume  of  the  book  it  is 
written  of  me,  I  delight  to  do  thy  Will,  0  my  God,  and 
thy  lazu  is  ivithin  my  heart.  Where  is  a  manifcft  al- 
lufion  to  the  covenant,  v^^hich  the  willing  fervant, 
who  loved  his  matter's  fervice,  made  with  his  mailer, 
to  be  his  fervant  for  ever,  on  the  day  wherein  he  had 
his  ear  bored  ;  which  covenant  was  probnbly  infert- 
ed   in   the  public    records,  called  the  Volume  of  the 

*  See  Dr.  M^hitby  on  the  five  Points,  p.  48,  49,  jo. 


SeQ;.  II.  neceffarily  ^o/y.  189 

Book,  by  the  judges,  who  were  called  to  take  cogniz- 
ance of  the  tranlatlion  ;  Exod.  xxi.  It  the  Logos, 
who  was  with  the  Father,  before  the  world,  and  who 
made  the  world,  thus  engaged  in  covenant  to  do  the 
Will  of  the  Father  in  the  human  nature,  and  the 
promife,  was  as  it  were  recorded,  that  it  might  be 
made  fure,  doubtlefs  it  was  impojfihk  that  it  fhould 
fail  ;  and  fo  it  was  impoffible  that  Chrift  fhould  fail 
of  doing  the  Will  of  the  Father  in  the  human  nature. 

10.  If  it  was  polhble  for  Chrift  to  have  failed 
of  doing  the  Will  of  his  Father,  and  fo  to  have  fail- 
ed of  effectually  working  out  redemption  for  finners, 
then  the  falvation  of  all  the  faints,  who  were  faved 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  to  the  death  of 
Chrift,  was  not  built  on  a  firm  foundation.  The 
Mefiiah,  and  the  redemption  which  he  was  to  work 
out  by  his  obedience  unto  death,  was  the  foundation 
of  the  falvation  of  all  the  pofterity  of  fallen  man, 
that  ever  were  faved.  Therefore,  if  when  the  Old 
Teftament  faints  had  the  pardon  of  their  fins,  and 
the  favour  of  God  promiled  them,  and  falvation  be- 
llowed upon  them,  ilill  it  was  pofiible  that  the  Mef- 
iiah, when  he  came,  might  commit  fin,  then  all  this 
was  on  a  foundation  that  was  not  firm  and  ftable, 
but  liable  to  fail  ;  fomething  which  it  was  poffible 
might  never  be.  God  did  as  it  were  truft  to  what 
his  Son  had  engaged  and  promifed  to  do  in  future 
time;  and  depended  fo  much  upon  it,  that  He  pro- 
ceeded actually  to  fave  men  on  the  account  of  it,  as 
though  it  had  been  already  done.  But  this  truft 
and  dependence  of  God,  on  the  fuppofition  of  Chrift's 
being  liable  to  fail  of  doing  his  Will,  was  leaning  on 
a  ftaff  that  was  weak,  and  mJght  poftibly  break. — 
The  faints  of  old  trufted  on  the  promifes  of  a  future 
redemption  to  be  v/rought  out  and  completed  by  the 
Me{fiah,  and  built  their  comfort  upon  it;  Abraham 
faw  Chrift's  day,  and  rejoiced ;  and  he  and  the  other 


igo       The  ABs  of  the  Will  oJChn^.^c,     Part  III. 

Patriarchs  died  in  the  faith  of  the  promife  of  it — 
(Heb.  xi.  13.)     But  on  this  fuppofition,   their  faith 
and  their  comfort,  and  their  falvation,  was  built  on 
a  moveable  fallible   foundation;  Chrifl:  was  not   to 
them  a   tried  ftone,  a  fare  foundation:   as  in    Ifai. 
xxviii.    16.     David  entirely  refted  on  the  covenant 
of  God    with   him,  concerning   the   future  glorious 
dominion  and  falvation  of  the  MefTiah,  of  his  feed  ; 
fays   it   was   all  his  falvation,  and  all  his  dejire  :  and 
comforts  himfelf  that  this  covenant  was  an  evcrlajling 
covenant,  ordered  in  all  things  and  Jure,  2  Sam.  xxiii, 
5.     But  if  Chrift's  virtue  might  fail,  he  was  miflak- 
en :  his  great  comfort  was    not  built  fo  fure  as  he 
thought  it  was,  being  founded  entirely  on  the  deter- 
minations of  the  Free  Vv^ill  of  Chrifl's  human  Soul ; 
which  was  fubjcct  to  no  necelTity,  and  might  be  de- 
termined either  one  way  or  the  other.     Alio  the  de- 
pendence of  thofe,  who  looked  for  redemption  in  Je- 
rufalem,   and   waited  for  the  confolation  of  Ifrael, 
(Luke  ii.  25,  and  38,)  and  the  confidence  of  the  dif- 
ciples  of  Jefus,  who  forfook  all  and  followed  Him, 
that  they  might  enjoy  the  benefits  of  his  future  kmg^ 
dom,  was  built  on  a  fandy  foundation. 

11.  The  man  Chrift  Jefus,  before  he  had  finifhed 
feis  courfe  of  obedience,  and  while  in  the  midft  of 
temptations  and  trials,  was  abundant  in  pofitively 
predicting  his  own  future  glory  in  his  kingdom,  and 
the  enlargement  of  his  church,  the  falvation  of  the 
Gentiles  through  Him,  &c.  and  in  promifes  of  blelF- 
ings  he  would  beftow  on  his  true  difciples  in  his  fu- 
ture kingdom;  on  which  promifes  he  required  the 
full  dependence  of  his  difciples,  (John  xiv.)  But 
the  difciples  would  have  no  ground  for  fuch  de- 
pendence, if  Chrifl;  had  been  liable  to  fail  in  his 
work  :  and  Chrifl:  Himfelf  would  have  been  guilty  of 
prefumption,  in  fo  abounding  in  peremptory  prom- 
ifes of  great  things,  which  depended  on  a  mere  con- 


Sc6l.  II.      Christ's  Righteoufnefs,  &c.  191 

tingence,  viz.  the  determinations  of  his  Free  Will, 
confiding  in  a  freedom  ad  idnimqus,  to  either  fin  or 
holinefs,  (landing  in  indifference,  and  incident,  in 
thoufands  of  future  inftances,  to  go  either  one  way 
or  the  other. 

Thus  it  is  evident,  that  it  was  iynpojfihlc  that  the 
A6ls  of  the  Will  of  the  human  foul  of  Chrift  Ihould 
be  otherwife  than  holy,  and  conformed  to  the  Will 
of  the  Father;  or,  in  other  words,  they  were  necef- 
farily  fo  conformed. 

I  have  been  the  longer  in  the  proof  of  this  matter, 
it  being  a  thing  denied  by  fome  of  the  greateft  Ar^ 
7?iimanSy  by  Epu^'copius  in  particular ;  and  becaufe  I 
look  upon  it  as  a  point  clearly  and  abfolutely  deter- 
mining the  controverfy  between  Calvinifts  and  Ar- 
minianSy  concerning  the  necefTuy  of  fuch  a  freedom 
of  Will  as  is  infilled  on  by  the  latter,  in  order  to 
moral  agency,  virtue,  command  or  prohibition, 
promife  or  threatening,  reward  or  punifhment,  praife 
or  difpraife,  merit  or  demerit.  I  now  therefore 
proceed, 

II.  To  confider  whether  Christ,  in  his  holy  be- 
haviour on  earth,  was  not  thus  a  moral  agent,  fub- 
je6l  to  commands,  promifcs,  Sic. 

Dr.  Whitby  very  often  fpeaks  of  what  he  calls  a 
freedom  ad  utrumlihet,  without  neceflity,  as  requilite 
to  law  and  commands  ;  and  fpeaks  of  neceflity  as  en- 
tirely inconfillent  with  injunBions  and  prohibitions. — 
But  yet  we  read  of  Chrift's  being  the  fubje6l  of  the 
commands  of  his  Father,  Job  x.  18,  and  xv.  10. — 
And  Chrifl  tells  us,  that  every  thing  He /aid,  or  did, 
was  in  compliance  with  commandments  he  had  received 
of  the  Father  ;  John  xii.  49,  50,  and  xiv.  31.  And 
we  often  read  of  Chrift's  obedience  to  his  Father's 
commands,  Rom.  v.  19.      Phil.  ii.  18.     Heb.  v.  8. 

The  forementioned  writer  reprefents  promifcs  of- 
fered as  motives  to  perfons  to  do  their  duty,  or  a  bein^ 


192  Christ's  Righteoufnefs  Part  III, 

tnoved  and  induced  by  proviifcs,  as  utterly  inconfiflent 
with  a  ftate  wherein  perlons  have  not  a  liberty  ad 
utrumlibet  but  are  neceflfarily  determined  to  one. — 
(See  particularly,  p.  298,  311.)  But  the  thing  which 
this  writer  ad'erts^  is  demon  drably  falfe,  if  the  Chrif- 
tian  religion  be  true.  If  there  be  any  truth  in  Chrif- 
tianity  or  the  holy  Scriptures,  the  man  Chrift  Jefus 
had  his  Will  infallibly,  unalterably  and  unfruflra- 
bly  determined  to  good,  and  that  alone;  but  yet  he 
had  promifes  of  glorious  rewards  made  to  Him,  on 
condition  of  his  perfevering  in,  and  perfe6ling  the 
work  which  God  had  appointed  Him;  Ifa.  liii.  10, 
11,  12.  Pfal.  ii.  and  ex.  Ifai.  xlix.  7,  8,  9.  In  Luke 
xxii.  28,  29,  Chrift  fays  to  his  difciples,  Ye  are  they 
which  have  continued  with  me  in  my  temptations ;  and  1 
appoint  unto  yen  a  kingdom,  as  my  Father  hath  appointed 
unto  me.  The  word  raoft  properly  fignifies  to  ap- 
point by  covenant,  or  promiie.  The  plain  meaning 
of  Chrift's  words  is  this :  "  As  you  have  partook  of 
**  my  temptations  and  trials,  and  have  been  ftedfaft, 
*'  and  have  overcome,  I  promife  to  make  you  par- 
*'  takers  of  my  reward,  and  to  give  you  a  kingdom ; 
**  as  the  Father  has  promifed  me  a  kingdom  for  con- 
**  tinuing  ftedfaft,  and  overcoming  in  thofe  trials." 
And  the  words  are  well  explained  by  thofe  in  Rev. 
iii.  21  ;  Tb  him  that  overcometh,  will  I  grant  to  Jit  with 
me  on  my  throne  ;  even  as  I  alfo  overcome,  and  am  Jet 
down  with  my  Father  in  his  throne.  And  Chrift  had 
not  only  promifes  of  glorious  fuccefs  and  rewards 
made  to  his  obedience  and  fufferings,  but  the  Scrip- 
tures plainly  reprefents  Him  as  ufing  thcfe  promifes 
for  motives  and  inducements  to  obey  and  fuffer; 
and  particularly  that  promife  of  a  kingdom  which 
the  Father  had  appointed  Him,  or  fitting  with  the 
Father  on  his  throne;  as  in  Heb.  xii.  1,  2;  Let  us 
lay  ajide  every  weight,  and  the  fm  which  doth  eafily  befet 
ns,  and  let  us  rim  iciih  patience  the  race  that  is  Jet  bejore. 


Se6l.  II.       Praifc- worthy,  rewardable,  &c,  193 

us,   looking  unto   jf^lfu^  the  Author  and  Finijher  of  our 
faith  ;  who  for  ihe.  joy  that  was  fet  before  Him,  endured 
the  crofs,  defpifing  the  fhame,  and  is  fet  down  on  ihe  right 
hand  of  the  throne  0/  God, 

And  how  ftrange  would  it  be  to  hear  any  chriftian 
affert,  that  the  holy  and  excellent  temper  and  be- 
haviour of  Jefus  Chrift,  and  that  obedieuce,  which 
he  performed  under  fuch  great  trials,  was  not  virtu^ 
ous  or  praife- worthy  ;  becaufe  his  Will  was  not  free 
ad  utruviqice,  to  either  holinefs  or  fm,  but  was  unal- 
terably determined  to  one;  that  upon  this  account, 
there  is  no  virtue  at  all,  in  all  Chrill's  humility, 
meeknefs,  patience,  charity,  forgivenefs  of  enemies, 
contempt  of  the  world,  heavenly  mindednefs,  fub- 
fniffion  to  the  will  of  God,  perfe^l  obedience  to  his 
.  commands,  (though  He  was  obedient  unto  death, 
even  the  death  of  the  crofs)  his  great  compaflion  to 
the  afflifted,  his  unparalleled  love  to  mankind,  his 
faithfulnefs  to  God  and  man,  under  fuch  great  trials  ; 
his  praying  for  his  enemies,  even  ivhen  nailing  him 
to  the  crofs;  that  virtue,  when  applied  to  thele  things, 
is  but  an  empty  name  ;  that  there  was  no  merit  in  any 
of  thefe  things  ;  that  is,  that  Chrift  was  worthy  of 
nothing  at  all  on  account  cf  them,  worthy  of  no  re- 
ward, no  praife,  no  honour  or  refpe6l  from  God  or 
man  ;  becaufe  his  Will  was  not  indifferent,  and  free 
either  to  thefe  things,  or  the  contrary  ;  but  under 
fuch  a  ftrong  inclination  or  bias  to  the  things  that 
were  excellent,  as  made  it  impojfible  that  he  fhould 
choofe  the  contrary  ;  that  upon  this  account  (to  ufq 
Dr.  Whitby's  language)  it  would  be  fenfibly  unreajona^ 
ble  that  the  human  nature  fliould  be  rewarded  for 
any  of  thefe  things. 

According  to  this  do^lrine,  that  creature  who  is 
evidently  fet  forth  in  fcripture  as  the  firjl-born  of  ev^ 
cry  creature,  as  hdivm^y  in  all  things  the  pre- eminence , 
and  as  the  highcft  of  all  creatures  in  virtue,  honour, 

C2 


194  Christ's  Righteoufnefs         Part  III. 

and  worthinefs  of  efleem,  praife  and  glory,  on  the  ac- 
count of  his  virtue,  is  lefs  worthy  of  reward  or  praife, 
than  the  very  lead  of  faints  ;  yea,  no  more  worthy 
than  a  clock  or  n^ere  machine,  that  is  purely  paffive, 
and  moved  by  natural  neceffity. 

If  we  judge  by  fcriptural  reprefentations  of  things, 
v/e  have  reafon  to  fuppofe,  that  Chrift  took  upon 
him  our  nature,  and  dwelt  with  us  in  this  world,  in 
ri  fullering  Rate,  not  only  to  fatisfy  for  our  fins,  but 
that  He,  being  in  our  nature  and  circum/lances,  and 
under  our  trials,  might  be  our  mod  fit  and  proper 
example,  leader  and  captain,  in  the  exercife  of  glori- 
ous and  vi61orious  virtue,  and  might  be  a  vifible  in- 
ilance  of  the  glorious  end  and  reward  of  it ;  that  we 
might  fee  in  Him  the  beauty,  amiablenefs,  and  true 
honour  and  glory,  and  exceeding  bcnefir,  of  that  vir- 
tue, which  it  is  proper  for  us  human  beings  to  prac- 
tife  ;  and  might  thereby  learn,  and  be  animated,  to 
fcek  the  like  glory  and  honour,  and  to  obtain  the  like 
glorious  reward.  See  Heb.  ii.  9 — 14,  with  v.  8,  9, 
and  xii.  1,  2,  3.  John  xv.  10.  Rom.viii.17.  2  Tim. 
ii.  II,  12.  1  Pet.  ii.  19,  20,  and  iv.  13.  But  if  there 
was  nothing  of  any  virtue  or  merit,  or  worthinefs  of 
any  reward,  glory,  praife  or  commendali.on  at  all, 
in  all  that  He  did,  becaufc  it  was  all  necefiary,  and 
He  could  not  help  it ;  then  how  is  here  any  thing  fo 
proper  to  animate  and  excite  us,  free  creatures,  by 
patient  continuance  in  well-doing,  to  feek  for  honour, 
glory,  and  virtue  ? 

God  fpeaks  of  Himfelf  as  peculiarly  well  pleafed 
with  the  righteoufnefs  of  this  fervant  of  his.  Ifai. 
xlii.  21,  The  Lord  is  -well  pleafed  for  his  righteoufnefs 
fake.  The  facrifices  of  old  are  fpoken  of  as  a  fweefe 
favour  to  God,  but  the  obedience  of  Chrift  as  far 
more  acceptable  than  they.  Pfal.  xl.  6,  7,  Sacrifice 
and  offering  Thou  didfl  not  defire  : — Mine  ear  hafi  Thou 
opened  [as  thy  fervant  performing  willing  obedience;]] 


Sc6l.  II.     Praifc -worthy,  rcwordahU,  (3c,  195 

burnt  offering  and  fnx-offtring  hajl  thou  not  required  : 
then/aid  J,  Lo,  I  come  (_as  a  fcrvant  that  cheeifully 
anlwers  the  calls  of  his  mafter  :J  I  delight  to  do  thy 
willy  0  my  God,  and  thy  law  is  within  mine  heart.  Matt, 
xvli.  5,  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well 
fleafed.  And  Chrift  tells  us  exprefsly,  that  the 
Father  loves  Him  for  that  wonderful  iti fiance  of  his 
obedience,  his  voluntary  yielding  himfelf  to  death, 
in  compliance  with  the  Father's  command.  John  x. 
17,  18,  Therefore  doth  7iiy  Father  love  me,  becaujc  I 
lay  dozun  my  life  : — A^o  man  taketh  it  from  me  ;  but  I 
lay  it  down  my f elf- — This  commandment  received  I  of  my 
Father, 

And  if  there  be  no  merit  in  Chrill's  obedience  un- 
to death,  if  it  was  not  worthy  of  praife,  and  of  the 
mod  glorious  rewards,  the  heavenly  hods  were  ex- 
ceedingly miflaken,  by  the  account  that  is  given  of 
them,  in  Rev.  v.  8 — 12 — The  four  beafls  and  the  four 
and  twenty  elders  fell  down  before  the  Lamb,  having  every 
one  of  them  harps,  and  golden  vials  full  of  odours  ; — 
and  theyfung  a  new  fong,  faying.  Thou  art  WORTHY 
to  take  the  book,  and  to  open  the  feals  thereof ;  for  Thou 
waflflain. — And  I  beheld,  and  I  heard  the  voice  of  many 
angels  round  about  the  Throne,  and  the  beafls,  and  the  eU 
ders,  and  the  number  of  them  was  ten  thoufand  times  ten 
thoifand,  and  thoufands  of  thoufands,  faying  with  a  loud 
voice,  WORTHY  is  the  Lamb  that  wasflain,  to  receive 
power,  and  riches,  and  wifdom,  andflrengtk,  and  honoury 
and  glory,  and  bleffing, 

Chrifl  fpeaks  of  the  eternal  life  v/hich  He  was  to 
receive,  as  the  reward  of  his  obedience  to  the  Fath- 
er's commandments.  John  xii.  49,  50,  /  have  not 
fpoken  ofmyfelf;  but  the  Father  which  fent  me.  He  gave 
me  a  command^nent  zvhat  Ifliouldfay,  and  xvhat  I  Jhould 
fpeak  :  and  I  know  that  his  commandment  is  life  evcrlajl- 
ing  :  whatfocver  I  fpeak  therefore,  even  as  the  Father faid 
unto  mt^  fj  I  fpeak, — God  promifcs  to  divide  him  a 


1^6  Christ's  Right.eourners  Part  III. 

portion  with  the  great,  &c.  for  his  being  his  rights 
€Ous  Servant,  for  his  glorious  virtue  under  fuch  great 
trials  and  afflidions.  Ifai.  liii.  ii,  12,  He  Jhall  Jet 
the  travel  of  his  foul  and  be  fatisjicd  :  by  his  knowledge 
Jhall  my  righteous  Servant  juftijy  me  ;  for  he  JJiall  bear 
their  iniquities.  Therefore  will  I  divide  him  a  portion 
with  the  great,  and  he  Jhall  divide  thejpoil  with  thejlrong, 
hecauje  he  hath  poured  out  his  Joul  unto  death. — The 
fcriptures  reprefent  God  as  rewarding  Him  far  above 
all  his  other  fervants.  Phil.  ii.  7,  8,  9,  He  took  on 
him  the  form  of  afervant^  and  was  made  in  the  likenfs  of 
men  :  and  being  found  infafJiion  as  a  man,  He  humbled 
himftlf  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of 
the  crofs :  wherefore  GOD  alfo  hath  highly  exalted  Him, 
and  given  him  a  Name  above  every  Name.  Pfal.  xlv.  7, 
Thou  lovefl  righteoifncfs,  and  hatefl  wickednefs  :  there- 
fore God,  thy  God,  hath  anointed  Thee  with  the  oil  of 
gladnefs  above  thy  Jellows, 

There  is  no  room  to  pretend,  that  the  glorious 
benefits  beftowed  in  confequence  of  Chrifl's  obedi- 
ence, are  not  properly  of  the  nature  of  a  reward. 
What  is  a  reward,  in  the  mofl  proper  fenfe,  but  a 
benefit  beftowed  in  confequence  of  fomething  mor- 
ally excellent  in  quality  or  behaviour,  in.teftimony 
of  well-pleafednefs  in  that  moral  excellency,  and  re- 
lpe6l  and  favour  on  that  account  ?  If  we  confider 
the  nature  of  a  reward  moft  ftri6lly,  and  make  the 
utmoft  of  it,  and  add  to  the  things  contained  in  this 
defcription,  proper  merit  or  worthinefs,  and  the  be- 
flowment  of  the  benefit  in  confequence  of  a  promife; 
flill  it  will  be  found,  there  is  nothing  belonging  to 
it,  but  that  the  fcripture  is  moft  exprefs  as  to  its  be- 
longing to  the  glory  beftowed  on  Chrift,  after  his 
fufterings  ;  as  appears  from  what  has  been  already 
obferved  :  there  was  a  glorious  benefit  beftowed  in 
confequence  of  fomething  morally  excellent,  being 
palled   Righteoufnefs  and  Obedience ;  th^re  was  great 


Sc6t,  II.     Praife-worthy,  rewardahle,  G?c.  197 

favour,  love  and  vvell-pleafednefs,  for  this  rigbteouf- 
nefs  and  obedience,  in  the  bellower  ;  there  was 
proper  merit,  or  worthinefs  of  the  benefit,  in  the 
obedience  ;  it  was  beftowed  in  fulfilment  of  prom- 
ifes,  made  to  that  obedience  ;  and  was  bellowed 
therefore,  or  becaufc  he  had  performed  that  obedience. 
I  may  add  to  all  thefe  things,  that  Jefus  Chrift, 
while  here  in  the  flefh,  was  manifeflly  in  a  ftate  of 
trial.  The  laft  Adam,  as  Chrifl  is  called,  1  Cor.  xv. 
45.  Rom.  v.  14,  taking  on  Him  the  human  nature, 
and  fo  the  form  of  a  fervant,  and  being  under  the 
law,  to  (land  and  a6l  for  us,  was  put  into  a  ftate  of 
trial,  as  the  firft  Adam  was. — Dr.  Whitby  mentions 
thefe  three  things  as  evidences  of  perfons  being  in  a 
flate  of  trial  (on  the  five  Points,  p.  298,  299,)  name- 
ly, their  affli6lions  being  fpoken  of  as  their  trials  or 
temptations,  their  being  the  fubje6ls  of  promifes,  and 
their  being  expofed  to  Satan's  temptations.  But 
Chrift  was  apparently  the  fubje6l  of  each  of  thefe. 
Concerning  promifes  made  to  Him,  I  have  fpoken 
already.  The  difficulties  and  ajli^ions  He  met  with 
in  the  courfe  of  his  obedience,  are  called  his  tempta- 
tions  or  trials.  Luke  xxii.  28,  Ye  are  they  which  have 
continued  with  me  in  my  temptations,  or  trials.  Heb. 
ii.  18,  For  in  that  he  H imf elf  hath  fuffered,  being  tempt- 
ed [or  tried]  He  is  able  tofuccour  them  that  are  tempted. 
And  chap.  iv.  15,  We  have  not  an  high-priejl,  which 
cannot  be  touched  zuith  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities  ;  but 
was  in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are, yet  without fm. 
And  as  to  his  being  tempted  hy  Satan  it  is  what  none 
will  diipute. 


198  OJthe  Inahility  and  Sin  offuch     Part  III. 

Section     III. 

The  Cafe  offuch  as  are  given  up  of  God  to  Sin,  and 
0/ fallen  Man  in  general,  proves  7noral  Neceffity  and 
Inability  to  be  confiflent  with  blame-'worthinefs, 

JJr.  Whitby  afferts  freedom,  not  only  from  coac- 
tion,  but  Neceffity,  to  be  eflential  to  any  thing  de- 
ferving  the  name  of  Sin,  and  to  an  a6lion's  being  cul- 
fable  :  in  thefe  words  (Difcourfe  on  the  five  Ponits, 
edit.  3,  p.  348.)  *'  If  they  be  thus  neceffitated,  then 
*'  neither  their  Sins  of  omiffion  or  commiffion  could 
**  defcrve  that  name  ;  it  being  elfential  to  the  nature 
*'  of  Sin,  according  to  St.  Auftin's  definition,  that  it 
**  be  an  a6lion  a  quo  liberum  efl  abflinere.  Three 
**  things  feem  plainly  necelfary  to  make  an  atlion 
*•  or  omiffion  culpable  :  1.  That  it  be  in  our  power 
^*  to  perform  or  forbear  it  :  for,  as  Origen,  and  all 
*'  the  Fathers  fay,  no  man  is  blame- worthy  for  not 
^*  doing  what  he  could  not  do."  And  elfewhere 
the  Do6lor  infills,  that  "  when  any  do  evil  of  Ne- 
*'  ceffity,  what  they  do  is  no  vice,  that  they  are  guil- 
*'  ty  of  no  fault,*  are  worthy  of  no  blame,  difpraifCjt 
"'  or  diffionor.J  but  are  unblamable."^ 

If  thefe  things  are  true,  in  Dr.  Whitby's  fenfe  of 
Neceffity,  they  will  prove  all  fuch  to  be  blamelefs, 
who  are  given  up  of  God  to  Sin,  in  what  they  com- 
mit after  they  are  thus  given  up.  That  there  is  fuch 
athing  as  men's  being  judicially  given' up  to  Sin  is 
certain,  if  the  Scripture  rightly  informs  us  ;  fuch  a 
thing  being  often  there  fpoken  of  ;  as  in  Pfal.  Ixxxi, 
J  2,  So  I  gave  them  up  to  their  own  hearts'  hflsy  and  they 
%x)alktd  in  their  own  counfels,     Adsvii.  42,    Then   God 

*Difcourfeon  the  five  Points,  p.  347,  360,  361,  377.  +  303, 
326,  329^  and  many  other  places,     if  371.     ^  304,  361. 


SeQ:.  III.         cs  are  given  up  to  Siti.  199 

turned,  and  gave  them  up  io  worjhip  the  hojl  of  heaven. 
Rom.  i.  24,  Wherefore,  God  alfo  gave  them  up  to  un^ 
cleanncfi,  through  the  lujis  of  their  own  hearts,  to  dijhon^ 
or  their  own  bodies  between  thcwjelves,  Ver.  26,  For  this 
caufe  God  gave  them  up  to  vile  affeBions,  Ver.  28,  And 
even  as  they  did  net  like  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge^ 
God  gave  them  ever  to  a  reprobate  mind,  to  do  thofc 
things  that  are  not  convenient. 

It  is  necdlefs  to  (land  particularly  to  enquire, 
what  God's  giving menup  to  their  own  hearts'  luJls  fig- 
nifies  :  it  is  iufTicient  to  obferve,  that  hereby  is  cer- 
tainly meant  God's  fo  ordering  or  difpofing  things, 
in  Tome  refpe^l  or  other,  either  by  doing  or  forbear- 
ing to  do,  as  that  the  confequence  fhould  be  men's 
continuIncT  in  their  Sins.  So  much  as  men  are  oiv- 
en  up  to,  io  much  is  the  confequence  of  their  being 
given  up,  whether  that  be  lefs  or  more.  If  God 
does  not  order  things  fo,  by  a6lion  or  permiflion,  that 
Sin  will  be  the  confequence,  then  the  event  proves 
that  they  are  not  given  up  to  that  confequence.  If 
good  be  the  confequence,  inftead  of  evil,  then  God's 
mercy  is  to  be  acknowledged  in  that  good;  which 
mercy  mud  be  contrary  to  God's  judgment  in  giving 
up  to  evil.  If  the  event  mull  prove,  that  they  are 
given  up  to  evil  as  the  confequence,  then  the  per- 
sons, who  are  the  fubjeds  of  this  judgment,  muft  be 
the  fubjeds  of  fuch  an  event,  and  fo  the  event  is  nc- 
celTary. 

If  not  only  coaclion,  but  all  Ntcejfity,  will  prove 
men  blamelefs,  then  Judas  was  biamelefs,  after 
Chrill  had  given  him  over,  and  had  already  declared 
his  certain  damnation,  and  that  he  Ihould  verily  be- 
tray Him.  He  was  guilty  of  no  Sin  in  betraying  his 
Maftcr,  on  this  fuppofition  ;  though  his  fo  doing  is 
fpoken  of  by  Chrifl  as  the  mofi  aggravated  Sin, 
more  heinious  than  the  Sin  of  Pilate  in  crucifying 
Him.     And  the  Jews  in  Egypt,  in  Jeremiah's  time, 


200  Of  the  Inability  and  Sinoffuch     Part  III, 

were  guilty  of  no  Sin,  in  their  not  worftiipping  the 
true  God,  after  God  h^idi  fworn  by  his  great  Name,  that 
his  Name  fliould  be  no  more  named  in  the  mouth  of  any 
man  of  Judah,  in  all  the  land  of  Egypt — Jer.  xliv.  26. 
Dr.  Whitby  (Difcourfe  on  five  Points,  p.  302, 
303.)  denies,  that  men,  in  this  world,  are  ever  fo 
given  up  by  God  to  Sin,  that  their  Wills  Ihould  be 
neceffarily  determined  to  evil  ;  though  he  owns, 
that  hereby  it  may  become  exceeding  difficidt  for  men 
to  do  good,  having  a  ftrong  bent,  and  powerful  in- 
clination, to  what  is  evil. — But  if  we  fhould  allow 
the  cafe  to  be  jufl:  as  he  reprefents,  the  judgment  of 
giving  up  to  Sin  will  no  better  agree  with  his  notions 
of  that  liberty,  which  is  effential  to  praife  or  blame, 
than  if  we  Ihould  fuppofe  it  to  render  the  avoiding 
of  Sin  impoffible.  For  if  an  impoffihiliiy  of  avoiding 
Sin  wholly  excufes  a  man  ;  then,  for  the  fame  real- 
on,  its  being  difficult  to  avoid  it, excufes  him  in  part; 
and  this  juft  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  difficul- 
ty.— If  the  influence  of  moral  impoffibility  or  Ina- 
bility be  the  fame,  to  excufe  perfons  in  not  doing, 
or  not  avoiding  any  thing,  as  that  of  natural  Inabil- 
ity, (which  is  fuppofed)  then  undoubtedly,  in  like 
manner,  moral  di^culty  has  the  fame  influence  to  ex- 
cufe with  natural  difficulty.  But  all  allow,  that  nat- 
ural impoffibility  wholly  excufes,  and  alfo  that  nat^ 
ural  difficidty  excufes  in  part,  and  makes  the  a6l  or 
omiflion  lefs  blarneable  in  proportion  to  the  diffi- 
culty. All  natural  diftculty  Siccov ding  to  the  plained 
di6iates  of  the  light  of  nature,  excufes  in  fome  de- 
gree, fo  that  the  negle6l  is  not  fo  blameable,  as  if 
there  had  been  no  difficulty  in  the  cafe  :  and  fo  the 
greater  the  difficulty  is,  flill  the  more  excufeable,  in 
proportion  to  the  increafc  of  the  difficulty.  And  as 
natural  impoffibility  wholly  excufes  and  excludes 
all  blame,  lo  the  nearer  the  difficulty  approaches  to 
irnpoflibility,  ftili  the  nearer  a  peifon  is  to  blamelefl'- 


Se6b.  III.         as  are  given  up  to  Sitii  201 

nefs  in  proportion  to  that  approach.  And  if  the 
cafe  of  moral  impofTibility  or  Neceflity,  be  juft  the 
fame  with  natural  NeceflTity  or  coadlionj  as  to  influ- 
ence to  excufe  a  negleil,  then  alfo,  for  the  fame 
reafon,  the  cafe  of  natural  difliculty,  does  not  diflFer 
in  influence,  to  excufe  a  negle6l,  from  moral  diffi- 
eultyj  arifing  from  a  ftrong  bias  or  bent  to  evil,  fuch 
as  Dr.  Whitby  owns  in  the  cafe  of  thofe  that  are 
given  up  to  their  own  hearts'  lufls.  So  that  the  fault 
of  fuch  perfons  mufl:  be  lefl^ened,  in  proportion  to 
the  difficulty,  and  approach  to  impoflihility.  If  ten 
degrees  of  moral  dilBculty  make  the  a6tion  quite 
impoflible,  and  fo  wholly  excufe,  then  if  there  be 
nine  degrees  of  difficulty,  the  perfon  is  in  great  part 
excufed,  and  is  nine  degrees  in  ten,  lefs  blame-wor- 
thy, than  if  there  had  been  no  difficulty  at  ail;  and 
he  has  but  one  degree  of  blame-worthinefs.  The 
reafon  is  plain,  on  Arminian  principles,  viz.  becaufe 
as  difficulty,  by  antecedent  bent  and  bias  on  the 
Will,  is  increafed,  liberty  of  indifference,  and  felf- 
determination  in  the  Will,  is  diminiflied  ;  fo  much 
hindrance  and  impediment  is  there,  in  the  way  of 
the  Will's  a6ling  freely^  by  mere  felf-determination. 
And  if  ten  degrees  of  fuch  hindrance  take  away  all 
fuch  liberty,  then  nine  degrees  take  away  nine  parts 
in  ten,  and  leave  but  one  degree  of  liberty.  And 
therefore  there  is  but  one  degree  of  blameablenefs, 
cceteris  paribus,  in  the  negled  ;  the  man  being  no 
further  blameable  in  what  he  does,  or  negle61s,  thaa 
he  has  liberty  in  that  affair  :  for  blame  or  praife  (fay 
they)  avifes  wholly  from  a  good  ufe  or  abufe  of 
liberty. 

From  all  which  it  follows,  that  a  ftrong  bent  and 
bias  one  way,  and  difficulty  of  going  the  contraiy, 
never  caufes  a  perfon  to  be  at  all  more  expofed  to 
Sin,  or  any  thing  blameable  :  becaufe,  as  the  diffi- 
culty is  increafed,  fo  much  the  lefs  is   required  and 

D  2 


202  Of  the  Inahiliiy  and  Sin  Part  III. 

cxpe£lcd.  Though  in  one  refpe^l,  expofednefs  to 
Sin  or  fault  is  increafed,  viz.  by  an  increafe  of  ex- 
pofednefs to  the  evil  adion  or  omiflion  ;  yet  it  is  di- 
miniflied  in  another  refpcft,  to  balance  it;  namely, 
as  the  fjnfulnefs  or  blameablenefs  of  the  adion  or 
omiflion  is  diminiflied  in  the  fame  proportion.  So 
that,  on  the  whole,  the  affair,  as  to  expofednefs  to 
guilt  or  blame,  is  left  jull  as  it  was. 

To  illuftrate  this,  let  us  fuppofe  a  fcale  of  a  bal- 
ance to  be  intelligent,  and  a  free  agent,  and  induced 
with  a  felf-moving  power,  by  virtue  of  which  it 
could  a6l  and  produce  effects  to  a  certain  degree, 
ex.  gr.  to  move  itfelf  up  or  down  with  a  force  equal 
to  a  weight  of  ten  pounds ;  and  that  it  might  there- 
fore be  required  of  it,  in  ordinary  circumllances,  to 
move  itfelf  down  with  that  force ;  for  v/hich  it  has 
power  and  full  liberty,  and  therefore  would  be  blame- 
worthy if  it  failed  of  it.  But  then  let  us  fuppofe  a 
weight  of  ten  pounds  to  be  put  in  the  oppofite  fcale, 
which  in  force  entirely  counter-balance  its  felf-mov- 
ing power,  and  fo  renders  it  impoQible  for  it  to  move 
down  at  all  ;  and  therefore  wholly  excufes  it  from 
any  fuch  motion.  But  if  we  fuppofe  there  to  be  only 
nine  pounds  in  the  oppofite  fcale,  this- renders  its 
motion  not  impoflible,  but  yet  more  difficult:  fo 
that  it  can  no>v  only  move  down  with  the  force  of 
one  pound  :  but  however,  this  is  all  that  is  required 
of  it  under  thefe  circumllances ;  it  is  wholly  excuf- 
ed  from  nine  parts  of  its  motion  :  and  if  the  fcale, 
under  thefe  circumllances,  negle6ls  to  move,  and  re- 
mains at  reft,  all  that  it  will  be  blamed  for,  will  be 
its  ncgle6lof  that  one  tenth  part  of  its  motion  ;  which 
it  had  as  much  liberty  and  advantage  for,  as  in  ufual 
circumftances,  it  has  for  the  greater  motion,  which 
in  fuch  a  cafe  would  be  required.  So  that  this  new 
difficulty,  does  not  at  all  increafe  its  expofednefs  to 
any  thing  blame- worthy. 


Sea.  III.  c/ fallen  Man. 


203 


And  thus  the  very  fuppofilion  of  difficulty  in  the 
way  of  a  man  s  duiy,  or  proclivity  to  Sin,  through  a 
being  given  up  to  hardnefs  of  heart,  or  indeed  by  any 
other  means  whatfoever,  is  an  inconfiftcnce,  accord- 
ing to  Dr.  Whitby's  notions  of  liberty,  virtue  and 
vice,  blame  and  praife.  The  avoiding  Sin  and  blame, 
and  the  doing  what  is  virtuous  and  praife-worthv, 
mufl  be  always  equally  eafy. 

Dr.  Whitby's  notions  of  liberty,  obligation,  vir- 
tue. Sin,  C^c,  led  him  into  another  great  inconfifl:- 
ence.  He  abundantly  infills,  that  necellity  is  incon- 
fiflcnt  with  the  nature  of  Sin  or  fault.  He  fays,  in 
the  forementioned  treatifc,  p.  14.  Who  can  blame  a 
per/on /or  doing  xuhat  he  cculi  not  help  ?  and  p.  15,  It 
being  fenfibly  unjujl,  to  punifi  avy  man  for  doing  that 
which  was  never  in  his  power  to  avoid.  And  in  p.  341 , 
to  confirm  his  opinion,  he  quotes  one  of  the  Fathers, 
faying.  Why  doth  God  command,  if  man  hath  not  fret 
Will  and  power  to  obey  ?  And  again  in  the  fame  and 
the  next  page,  Who  will  not  cry  out,  that  it  is  folly  to 
command  him,  that  hath  not  liberty  to  do  what  is  com- 
manded ;  and  that  it  is  unjujl  to  condemn  him,  that  has  it 
not  in  his  power  to  do  what  is  required  ?  And  in  p.  373, 
he  cites  another  faying,  A  law  is  given  to  him  that 
can  turn  to  both  parts,  i.  e.  obey  or  tranfgrefs  it:  but 
no  law  can  be  againjl  him  who  is  bound  by  nature. 

And  yet  the  fame  Dr.  Whitby  afTerts,  that  fallen 
Man  is  not  able  to  perform  perfe£l;  obedience.  In 
p.  165,  he  has  thefc  words  :  *'The  nature  of  Adam 
*'  had  power  to  continue  innocent,  and  without  Sin  ; 
"  whereas,  it  is  certain  our  nature  never  had  to." — 
But  if  ive  have  not  power  to  continue  innocent  and 
without  Sin,  then  Sin  is  inconfjftent  with  NecefTity, 
and  we  may  be  imful  in  that  which  we  have  not 
power  to  avoid;  and  thofe  things  cannot  be  true 
wliich  he  aCTerts  elfewhere,  namely.  "  That  if  v/e  be 
''  nccefTitated,  neither  Sins  of  omiflion  nor  commif- 


£04  Of  the  Inability  o/"  fallen  Man.     Part  III, 

<'  fion,  would  deferve  that  name,"  (p.  348.)  If  we 
have  it  not  in  our  power  to  be  innocent,  then  we 
have  it  not  in  our  power  to  be  blamelels  :  and  if  fo, 
we  are  under  a  Neceffity  of  being  blame-worthy. — - 
And  how  does  this  confift  with  what  he  fo  often  af- 
ferts,  that  NecefTity  is  inconfiftent  with  blame  or 
praife  ?  If  we  have  it  not  in  our  power  to  perform 
perfe6l  obedience,  to  all  the  commands  of  God,  then 
we  are  under  a  NecefTity  of  breaking  fome  com- 
mands, in  fome  degree;  having  no  power  to  peiform 
fo  much  as  is  commanded.  And  if  fo,  why  does  he 
cry  out  of  the  unreafonablenefs  and  folly  of  com- 
manding beyond  what  men  have  power  to  do? 

And  Arminians  in  general  are  very  inconfiftent 
with  themfelvesin  what  they  fay'^bf  the  Inability  of 
fallen  Man  in  this  refpe6l.  They  ftrenuoufly  main- 
tain, that  it  would  be  unjuft  in  God,  to  require  any 
thing  of  us  beyond  our  prefent  power  and  ability 
to  perform  ;  and  alfo  hold,  that  we  arc  now  unable 
to  perform  perfe6l  obedience,  and  that  Chrifl  died 
to  fatisfy  for  the  imperfe^ions  of  our  obedience,  and  has 
made  way,  that  our  imperfeQ  obedience  might  be 
accepted  inftead  of  perfed  :  wherein  they  feem  in- 
fenfibly  to  run  themfelves  into  the  groffefl  inconfift- 
ence.  For,  (as  I  have  obferved  eifewhere)  "  they 
*'  hold,  that  God,  in  mercy  to  mankind,  has  abolifh- 
*'  ed  that  rigorous  conftitution  or  law,  that  they  were 
**  under  originally;  and  inftead  of  it,  has  introduc- 
*«  ed  a  more  mild  conftitution,  and  put  us  under  a 
**  new  law,  which  requires  no  more  than  imperledt 
**  fincere  obedience,  in  compliance  with  our  poor 
«'  infirm  impotent  circumftances  fince  the  fall." 

Now,  how  can  thefe  things  be  made  confiftent  ? 
I  would  afk,  what  law  thefe  imperfedions  of  our 
obedience  are  a  breach  of  ?  if  they  arc  a  breach  of 
no  law,  that  we  were  ever  under,  then  they  are  not 
3ins.     And  if  they  be  not  Sins,  what  need  of  Chrift's 


Se6l.  III.     Of  the  Inability  o/Tallen  Man.  205 

dying  to  fatisfy  for  them  ?  But  if  they  are  Sins,  and 
and  the  breach  of  feme  law,  what  law  is  it  ?  they 
cannot  be  a  breach  of  their  new  law  ;  for  that  re- 
quires no  other  than  imperfetl  obedience,  or  obe- 
dience with  imperfedions  :  and  therefore  to  have 
obedience  attended  with  imperfe6lions,  is  no  breach 
of  it  ;  for  it  is  as  much  as  it  requires.  And  they 
cannot  be  a  breach  of  their  old  law  ;  for  that,  they 
fay,  is  entirely  aboliftied;  and  we  never  were  under  it. 
They  fay,  it  would  not  be  juft  in  God  to  require  of 
us  perfefl,  obedience,  becaufe  it  would  not  be  jull  to 
require  more  than  we  can  perform,  or  to  punifh  us  for 
failing  of  it.  And  therefore,  by  their  own  fcheme,  the 
imperfe£lions  of  our  obedience  do  not  deferve  to  be 
punifhed.  What  need  therefore  of  ChriR's  dying, 
to  fatisfy  for  them  ?  What  need  of  his  Jiiffering  to 
fatisfy  for  that  which  is  no  fault,  and  in  its  own  na- 
ture deferves  no  fiiffcring  ?  What  need  of  Chrift's 
dying,  to  purchafe,  that  our  imperfeB  obedience 
fhould  be  accepted,  when,  according  to  their  fcheme, 
it  would  be  unjuft  in  itfelf,  that  any  other  obedi- 
ence, than  imperfeB  Ihould  be  required  ?  What 
need  of  Chriil's  dying  to  make  way  for  God's  ac- 
cepting fuch  an  obedience,  as  it  would  be  unjufl 
in  Him  not  to  accept  ?  Is  there  any  need  of  Chrift's 
dying,  to  prevail  with  God  not  to  do  unrighteouf- 
ly  ? — It  it  be  faid,  that  Chrifl  died  to  fatisfy  that 
old  law  for  us,  that  fo  wc  might  not  be  under  it, 
but  that  there  might  be  room  for  our  being  under 
a  more  mild  law  ;  Rill  I  would  inquire,  what  need 
cf  Chrift's  dying,  that  we  might  not  be  under  a  law, 
which  (by  their  principles)  it  would  be  in  itfelf  un- 
jufl that  we  fhould  be  under,  whether  Chriil  had 
died  or  no,  becaufe,  in  our  prefent  ilate,  we  are 
not  able  to  keep  it  ? 

So  the  Arminians  are  inconfiftent  with  thcmfelvcs, 
not  only  in  what  they  fay  of  the  need  of  Chiifl's 
fatisfadion  to  atone  for  thof^  imoerfedions,  ^vhich 


2o6  OJ Inability,  and  Obligation.      Part  III, 

we  cannot  avoid,  but  alfo  in  what  they  fay  of  the 
grace  of  God,  granted  to  enable  men  to  perform  the 
fincere  obedience  of  the  new  law.  **  I  grant  (fays 
**  Dr.  Stebbing*)  indeed,  that  by  reafon  of  original 
**  Sin,  we  are  utterly  difablcd  for  the  performance 
**  of  the  condition,  without  new  grace  from  God. 
''  But  I  (ay  then,  that  he  gives  fuch  a  grace  to  all  of 
"  us,  by  v/hich  the  performance  of  the  condition  is 
*'  truly  pofTible  :  and  upon  this  ground  he  may,  and 
*'  doth  moft  righteoufly  require  it."  If  Dr.  Steb- 
bing  intends  to  fpeak  properly,  by  grace  he  mud 
mean,  that  afiiilance  which  is  of  grace,  or  of  free 
favour  and  kindnefs.  But  yet  in  the  fame  place  he 
fpeaks  of  it  as  very  unreafonahle,  unjufl  and  cruel,  for 
God  to  require  that,  as  the  condition  of  pardon,  that 
is  become  impofTible  by  original  Sin.  li  it  be  fo, 
what^r(2Cdis  there  in  giving  affiflance  and  ability  to 
perform  the  condition  of  pardon  ?  Or  why  is  that 
called  by  the  name  of  grace,  that  is  an  abfolute  debf, 
which  God  is  bound  to  beftow,  and  which  it  v/ould 
be  unjufl  and  cruel  in  Him  to  withhold,  feeing  he 
requires  that,  as  the  condition  of  pardon,  which  he  can- 
not perform  without  it. 


Section     IV. 

Command  and  Obligation   to  Obedience,    conjijlcnt 
with  moral  Inability  to  obey. 

It  being  fo  much  infified  on  by  Arminian  writers, 
that  neceffity  is  inconfiftent  with  Law  or  Command, 
and  particularly,  that  it  is  abfurd  to  fuppofe  God  by 
his  Command  Ihould    require   that   of  men    which 

*  Treatife  oi  the  Operations  ol  the  Spirit.     2  edit.  p.  H2, 
113. 


Se6i.  IV.         Commands  confijlent,  &c,  20J 

they  are  unable  to  do  ;  not  allowing  in  this  cafe  for 
any  difference  that  there  is  between  natural  and  mor- 
al Inability;  1  would  therefore  now  particularly 
conlider  this  matter. 

And,  for  the  greater  clearnefs,  I  would  diftindlly 
lay  down  the  following  things. 

I.  The  Will  itfelf,  and  not  only  thofe  anions 
which  are  the  effe6ls  of  the  Will,  is  the  proper  obje6l 
of  precept  or  Command.  This  is,  fuch  or  fuch  a 
ftate  or  atls  of  men's  Wills,  is  in  many  cafes,  proper- 
ly required  of  them  by  Commands  ;  and  not  only 
thofe  alterations  in  the  flate  of  their  bodies  or  minds 
that  are  the  confcquences  of  volition.  This  is  moft 
manifeft  ;  for  it  is  the  foul  only  that  is  properly  and 
diredly  the  iubje6l  of  precepts  or  Commands ;  that 
only  being  capable  of  receiving  or  perceiving  Com- 
mands. The  motions  or  ftate  of  the  body  are  mat- 
ter of  Command,  only  as  they  are  fubje6l  to  the  foul, 
and  ccnneded  with  its  ads.  But  now  the  foul  has 
no  other  faculty  whereby  it  can,  in  the  moft  dire6t 
and  proper  fcnfe,  confent,  yield  to,  or  comply  with 
any  Command,  but  the  faculty  of  the  Will ;  and  it 
is  by  this  faculty  only,  that  the  foul  can  diredly  dif- 
obey,  or  refufe  compliance  :  for  the  very  notions  of 
confenting,  yielding^  accepting,  complying,  reju/in^,  re^ 
jedinjy  Sec,  are,  according  to  the  meaning  of  the 
terms,  nothing  but  certain  a6ls  of  the  Will.  Obedi- 
ence, in  the  primary  nature  of  it,  is  the  fubmitting 
and  yielding  of  the  Will  of  one  to  the  Will  of  another. 
Difobedience  is  the  not  confenting,  not  comply- 
ing of  the  Will  of  the  commanded  to  the  manifefted 
Will  of  the  commander.  Other  a6ls  that  are  not  the 
a£ls  of  the  Will,  as  certain  motions  of  the  body  and 
alterations  in  the  foul,  are  Obedience  or  Difobedience 
only  indiredly,  as  they  are  conne6led  with  the  ftate 
or  adions  of  the  Will,  according  to  an  eftabliQied 
law  of  nature.     So  that  it  is  manifeft,  the  Will  itfelf 


2o8  Commands  confijleni  Part  lit, 

may  be  required  :  and  the  being  of  a  good  Will  is 
the  mofl  proper,  dirc6l  and  immediate  fubje6l  of 
Command;  and  if  this  cannot  be  prefcribed  or  re- 
quired by  Command  or  precept,  nothing  can  ;  for 
other  things  can  be  required  no  othervvife  than  as 
they  depend  upon,  and  are  the  fruits  of  a  good  Will. 

Corol.  1.  If  there  be  feveral  a£ls  of  the  Will,  or  a 
feries  of  ads,  one  following  another,  and  one  the  ef- 
fe6l  of  another,  the  Jirjl  and  determining  aEi  is  prop- 
erly the  fubje6l  of  Command,  and  not  only  the  con- 
fequenta6ls,  which  are  dependent  upon  it.  Yea,  it 
is  this  more  efpecially,  which  is  that,  which  Com- 
mand or  precept  has  a  proper  refpedl  to  i  becaufe  it 
is  this  aft  that  determines  the  whole  affair :  in  this 
aft  the  Obedience  or  Difobedience  lies,  in  a  peculiar 
manner  ;  the  confequent  a6ls  being  all  lubjeft  to  it, 
and  governed  and  determined  by  it.  This  determin- 
ing governing  aft  mud  be  the  proper  objeft  of  pre- 
cept, or  none. 

Corol.  2.  It  alfo  follows,  from  what  has  been  ob- 
ferved,  that  if  there  be  any  fort  of  aft,  or  exertion  of 
the  foul,  prior  to  all  free  afts  of  the  Will  or  afts  of 
"choice  in  the  cafe,  direfting  and  determining,  what 
the  afts  of  the  Will  (hall  be  ;  that  aft  or  exertion  of 
the  foul  cannot  properly  be  fubjeft  to  any  Command 
or  precept,  in  any  refpeft  whatfoever,  either  direftly 
or  indireftly,  immediately  or  remotely.  Such  afts 
cannot  be  lubjeft  to  Commands  direUly,  becaufe  they 
are  no  afts  of  the  Will ;  being  by  the  luppofition 
prior  to  all  afts  of  the  Will,  determining  and  giving 
rife  to  all  its  afts  :  they  not  being  afts  of  the  Will, 
there  can  be  in  them  no  confent  to,  or  compliance 
with,  any  command.  Neither  can  they  be  fubjeft 
to  Command  or  precept  indircBly  or  remotely  ;  for 
they  are  not  fo  much  as  the  eJJeBs  or  confequences  of 
the  Will,  being  prior  to  all  its  afts.  So  that  if  there 
be  any  Obedience  in  that  original  aft  of  the  foul,  de- 
termining all  volitions,   it  is   an  aft  of  Obedience 


Se6l.  IV.  'with  moral  Inability,  209 

wherein  the  Will  has  no  concern  at  all  ;  it  preced- 
ing every  a6t  oF  Will.  And  therefore,  if  the  foul 
either  obeys  or  diiobeys  in  this  a6l,  it  is  wholly  in- 
voluntarily ;  there  .is  no  willing  Obedience  or  re- 
bellion, no  compliance  or  oppofition  of  the  Will  in 
the  aff.iir :  and  what  fort  of  Obedience  or  rebeliioa 
is  this  ? 

And  thus  the  Arminian  notion  of  the  freedom  of 
the  Will  confiding  in  the  fours  determining  its  own 
a6ls  of  Will,  inftead  of  being  eflcntial  to  moral  agen* 
cy,  and  to  men's  being  the  fubjecls  of  moral  govern- 
ment, is  utterly  inconfiilent  with  it.  For  if  the  foul 
determines  all  its  ads  of  Will,  it  is  therein  fubje6l  to 
no  Command  or  moral  government,  as  has  been  now 
obi'erved  ;  becaufe  its  original  determining  a6l  is  no 
a6t  of  Will  or  choice,  it  being  prior,  by  the  fuppo- 
fition,  to  every  acl  of  Will.  And  the  foul  cannot  be 
the  fubje6l  of  Command  in  the  a6l  of  the  Will  itfelf, 
which  depends  on  the  foregoing  determining  a6t, 
and  is  determined  by  it ;  in  as  much  as  this  is  necef- 
fary,  being  the  neceffary  confequence  and  cffc6l  of 
that  prior  determining  a6l,  which  is  not  voluntary. 
Nor  can  the  man  be  the  fabje6l  of  Command  or 
government  in  his  external  adions  ;  becaufe  thefe 
are  all  neceflary,  being  the  neceflary  effe6ts  of  the 
a6ls  of  the  Will  themfelves.  So  that  mankind,  ac- 
cording to  this  fcheme,  are  fubjeds  of  Command  or 
moral  government  in  nothing  at  all ;  and  all  their 
moral  agency  is  entirely  excluded,  and  no  room  for 
virtue  or  vice  in  the  world. 

So  that  it  is  the  Ay'miniari  fcheme,  and  not  the 
fcheme  of  the  Calvinifis,  that  is  utterly  inconfiilent 
with  moral  government,  and  with  all  theufe  of  laws, 
precepts,  prohibitions,  promifes  or  threatenings. 
Neither  is  there  any  way  whatfocver  to  make  their 
principles  conGft  with  thefe  things.  For  if  it  be  faid, 
that  there  is  no  prior  determining  ad   of  the    foul, 

Ea 


210  Commands  CO jifijlent  Part  III. 

preceding  the  a6ls  of  the  Will,  but  that  volitions  are 
events  that  come  to  pafs  by  pure  accident,  without 
any  determining  caufe,  this  is  mod  palpably  incon- 
fiftent  with  all  ufe  of  laws  and  precepts  ;  for  nothing 
is  more  plain  than  that  laws  can  be  of  no  ufe  to  di- 
rect and  regulate  perfeft  accident  :  which,  by  the 
fuppofition  of  i(s  being  pure  accident,  is  in  no  cafe 
regulated  by  any  thing  preceding;  but  happervs, 
this  way  or  that,  perfe6ily  by  chance,  without  any 
caufe  or  rule.  The  perfe6t  ufeleffnefs  of  laws  and 
precepts  alfo  follows  from  the  Arminian  notion  of 
indifference,  as  cffeniial  to  that  liberty,  which  is  re- 
quilite  to  virtue  or  vice.  For  the  end  of  laws  is  to 
hind  to  one  fide  ;  and  the  end  of  Commands  is  to 
turn  the  Will  one  way  :  and  therefore  they  are  of  no 
ufe,  unlefs  they  turn  or  bias  the  Will  that  way.  But 
if  liberty  confifts  in  indifference,  then  their  biafing 
the  Wifl  one  way  only,  deflroys  liberty  ;  as  it  puts 
the  Will  out  of  equilibrium.  So  that  the  Will, 
having  a  bias,  through  the  influence  of  binding  law, 
laid  upon  it,  is  not  wholly  left  to  itfelf,  to  determine 
itfelf  which  way  it  will,  without  influence  from 
without. 

II.  Having  (hewn  that  the  Will  itfelf,  efpecially 
in  thofe  a6ls,  which  are  original,  leading  and  deter- 
mining in  any  cafe,  is  the  proper  fubjeft  of  precept 
and  Command,  and  not  only  thofe  alterations  in  the 
body,  &c.  which  are  the  effe6ls  of  the  Will ;  I  now 
proceed,  in  the  fecond  place,  to  obferve  that  the  very 
oppofition  or  defect  of  the  Will  itfelf,  in  that  a61:, 
which  is  its  original  and  determining  a£l  in  the  cafe  ; 
I  fay,  the  Will's  oppofition  in  this  aEl  to  a  thing  pro- 
pofed  or  commanded,  or  its  failing  of  compliance, 
implies  a  moral  Inability  to  that  thing  :  or,  in  oth- 
er  words,  whenever  a  Command  requires  a  ceftain 
ilate  or  a6l  of  the  Will,  and  the  perfon  commanded, 
notwithftanding  the  Command  and  the  circumftanccs 


Sed.  IV.  uith  moral  Inability,  211 

under  which  it  is  exhibited,  flill  finds  his  Will  op- 
pofite  or  wanting,  in  that,  belonging  to  its  (late  or 
^^s,  which  is  original  and  determining  in  the  affair, 
ihat  man  is  morally  unable  to  obey  that  Command. 

This  is  manifell  from  what  was  obferved  in  the 
firftpart,  roncerning  th6  natureof??zara/ Inability,  as 
dirtinguifhed  from  natural ;  where  it  was  obferved, 
that  a  man  may  then  be  faid  to  be  morally  unable 
to  do  a  thing,  when  he  is  under  the  influence  or 
prevalence  of  a  contrary  inclination,  or  has  a  want 
of  inclination,  under  fuch  circumflances  and  views. 
It  is  alfo  evident,  from  what  has  been  before  proved, 
that  the  Will  is  always,  and  in  every  individual  a6l, 
neceflarily  determined  by  the  ftrongeft  motive;  and 
lo  is  always  unable  to  go  againfl  the  motive,  which, 
all  things  confidered,  has  now  the  greatofl:  (Irength 
and  advantage  to  move  the  Will. — But  not  further 
to  infifl  on  thefe  things,  the  truth  of  the  pofition 
now  laid  down,  viz.  that  when  the  Will  is  oppofite 
to,  or  failing  of  a  compliance  with  a  thing  in  its  orig^ 
inal  determining  inclination  or  aB,  it  is  not  able  to 
comply,  appears  by  the  coniideration  of  thcfe  two 
things. 

i.CThe  Will  in  the  time  of  that  diverfe  or  oppo- 
fite leading  a6l  or  inclination,  and  when  a6lually 
under  the  influence  of  it,  is  not  able  to  exert  itfeif 
to  the  contrary,  to  make  an  alteration,  in  order  to 
a  compliance.  The  inclination  is  unable  to  change 
itfeif;  and  that  for  this  plain  reafon,  that  it  is  una- 
ble to  incline  to  change  itfeif.  Prefent  choice  can- 
not at  prefent  choofe  to  be  otherwife  :  for  that  would 
be  at  prefent  to  choofe  fomething  diverfe  from  what 
is  at  prefent  chofen.  If  the  Will,  all  things  now  con- 
fidered, inclines  or  choofes  to  go  that  way,  then  it 
cannot  choofe,  all  things  now  confidered,  to  go  the 
other  way,  and  fo  cannot  choofe  to  be  made  to  go 
the  other  way.     To  fuppofe  that  the   mind  is  nosv 


St  12  Commands  conjiftcnt  Part  IIL 

fincerely  inclined  to  change  itfelf  to  a  different  incli-^ 
nation,  is  to  fuppofe  the  mind  is  now  truly  inclined 
otherwife  than  it  is  now  inclined.  The  Will  may 
oppofe  fome  future  remote  a6l  that  it'is  expofed  to, 
but  not  its  own  prefent  a6t. 

2.  As  it  is  impofTible  that  the  Will  fliould  com- 
ply with  the  thing  commanded,  with  refpeft  to  its 
leading  aEi,  by  any  aft  of  its  own,  in  tJie  time  of  that 
diverfe  or  oppofite  leading  and  original  aB,  or  after  it 
has  aftually  come  under  the  influence  of  that  deter- 
mining choice  or  inclination;  fo  it  is  impoflible  it 
fliould  be  determined  to  a  compliance  by  any  fore- 
going a6l ;  for,  by  the  very  fuppofition,  there  is  no 
foregoing  a6l ;  the  oppofite  or  non-complying  a61: 
being  that  a6t  which  is  original  and  determining  in 
the  cafe.  Therefore  it  mufl  be  fo,  that  if  this  Jirji 
determining  a5i  be  found  non-complying,  on  the  pro- 
pofal  of  the  Command,  the  mind  is  morally  unable 
to  obey.  For  to  fuppofe  it  to  be  able  to  obey,  is  to 
fuppole  it  to  be  able  to  determine  and  caufe  lis  Jlrjl 
determining  act  to  be  otherwife,  and  that  it  has  pow- 
er better  to  govern  and  regulate  lis  Jirjl governing  and 
regulating  aU,  which  is  abfurd  ;  for  it  is  to  fappoie 
a  prior  a6l  of  the  Will,  determining  its  firfl  deter- 
mining a6t ;  that  is,  an  aft  prior  to  the  firfl,  and 
leading  and  governing  tht,  original  and  governing 
aft  of  all  ;    which  is  a  contradiftion. 

Here  if  it  fhould  be  faid,  that  although  the  mind 
has  not  any  ability  to  Will  contrary  to  what  it  does 
Will,  in  the  original  and  leading  aft  of  the  Will, 
becaufe  there  is  fuppofed  to  be  lio  prior  a61  to  de- 
termine and  order  it  otherwife,  and  the  Will  cannot 
immediately  change  itfelf,  becaufe  it  cannot  at  pref- 
ent incline  to  a  change  ;  yet  the  mind  has  an  ability 
for  the  prefent  to  forbear  to  proceed  to  a6lion,  and 
taking  time  for  deliberation;  which  may  be  ap  oc^ 
cafion  of  the  change  of  the  inclination, 


Se6l.  IV.  Tvith  viorul  Inah Lilly,  213 

I  anfwer,  (1.)  In  this  obje8ion  that  feems  to  be 
forgotten  which  was  oblerved  before,  viz,  that  the 
determining  to  take  the  matter  into  confideration,  is 
itfelf  an  a6t  of  the  Wili  :  and  if  this  be  all  the  atl 
wherein  the  mind  exercifes  ability  and  freedom,  then 
this,  by  the  fuppofition,  muft  be  all  that  can  be  com- 
inanded  or  required  by  precept.  And  if  this  a 61  be 
the  commanding  att,  then  all  that  has  been  obferved 
concerning  the  commanding  a6l  of  the  Will  remains 
true,  that  the  very  want  of  it  is  a  moral  Inability  to 
exen  it,  ^c,  (2.)  We  are  fpeaking  concerning  the 
firlt  and  leading  acl  of  the  Will  in  the  cafe,  or  about: 
the  affair;  and  if  a  determining  to  deliberate,  or  on 
the  contrary,  to  proceed  immediately  without  delib- 
erating, be  the  firlt  and  leading  acl ;  or  whether  it 
be  or  no,  if  there  be  another  a6l  before  it,  which  de- 
termines that ;  or  whatever  be  the  original  and  lead- 
ing a6t;  (lill  the  foregoing  proof  (lands  good,  that 
the  non-compliance  of  the  leading  att  implies  moral 
Inability  to  comply. 

If  it  (liould  beobjeQed,  that  thefe  things  make  all 
moral  Inability  equal,  and  fuppofe  men  morally  un- 
able to  Will  otherwife  than  they  a6tually  do  Will,  in 
all  cafes,  and  equally  fo  in  every  inllance. 

In  anfwer  to  this  objeftion,  I  defire  two  things 
may  be  obferved.  Firfl^  That  if  by  being  equally 
unable,  be  meant  as  really  unable  ;  then,  fo  far  as  the 
Inability  is  merely  moral,  it  is  true,  the  Will,  in  ev- 
ery inflance,  a8s  by  moral  necelFity  and  is  morally 
unable  to  a 61  otherwife,  as  truly  and  properly  in  one 
cafe  as  another;  as  I  humbly  conceive  has  been  pcr- 
feQly  and  abundantly  demonllrated  by  what  has 
been  faid  in  the  preceding  part  of  this  Eflay.  But 
yet,  in  fome  rei'pett,  the  Inability  may  be  faid  to  be 
greater  in  fome  inftances  than  otheis:  though  the 
man  may  be  truly  unable,  (if  moral  Inability  can 
truly  be  called  Inability.)  yet  he  may  be  further  fronj 


214  Commands  covfijleni  Part  III, 

being  able  to  do  fome  things  than  others.  As  it  is 
in  things,  which  men  are  naturally  unable  to  do. — 
A  perfon,  whofe  ilrengih  is  no  more  than  fufficient 
to  lift  the  weight  of  one  hundied  pounds,  is  as  truly 
and  really  unable  to  lift  one  hundred  and  one  pounds, 
as  ten  thoufand  pounds ;  but  yet  he  is  further  from 
being  able  to  lift  the  latter  weight  than  the  former; 
and  fo,  according  to  common  ufe  of  fpeech,  has  a 
greater  Inability  for  it.  So  it  is  in  moral  Inability. 
A  man  is  truly  morally  unable  to  choofe  contrary  to 
a  prefent  inclination,  vvliich  in  the  leafl  degree  pre- 
vails;  or,  contrary  to  that  motive,  which,  all  things 
confidered,  has  (Ircngth  and  advantage  now  to  move 
the  Will,  in  the  leaft  degree,  fuperior  to  all  other 
inotives  in  view  :  but  yet  he  is  further  from  ability 
to  refill  a  very  flrong  habit,  and  a  violent  and  deep- 
ly rooted  inclination,  or  a  motive  vaftly  exceeding 
all  others  in  flrength.  And  again,  the'Inability  may, 
in  fome  refpe6ls,  be  called  greater  in  fome  infiances 
than  otheis,  as  it  may  be  more  geiural  and  tr.UnJivt 
to  all  aBs  of  that  kind.  So  men  may  be  faid  to  be  un- 
able in  a  different  fenfe,  and  to  be  further  from  mor- 
al' ability,  who  have  that  moral  Inability  which  is 
general  and  habitual,  than  they  who  have  only  that 
Inability  which  is  occaf.onal  and  particular.*  Thus 
in  cafes  of  natural  Inability  ;  he  that  is  born  blind 
may  be  faid  to  be  unable  to  fee,  in  a  difPerent  man- 
ner, and  is,  in  fome  refpecls,  further  from  being  able 
to  fee,  than  he  whofe  fight  is  hindered  by  a  tranfient 
cloud  or  mi  ft. 

And  befides,  that  which  was  obferved  in  the  firfl 
part  of  this  difcourle,  concerning  the  Inability  which 
attends  a  firong  aiid  Jdtltd  habit,  fliould  be  here  re- 
rnembcred,  viz.  that  fixed  habit  is  attended  with 
this  peculiar  moral  Inability,  by  which  it   is  diftin- 

*  See  this  diilinQion  of  moral  Inability'expldincd  in  part 
I.  Seel,  IV. 


Se6l.  IV.  ^oith  moral  InabilUy,  215 

guifhed  from  occafional  volition,  namely,  that  endeav- 
ours to  avoid  future  volitions  of  that  kind,  which 
are  agreeable  to  fuch  a  habit,  much  more  frequently 
and  commonly  prove  vain  and  infufficient.  For 
though  it  is  impoilible  there  fbould  be  any  true  fin- 
cere  defires  and  endeavours  againll  a  prefent  volition 
or  choice,  yet  there  may  be  againll  volitions  of  that 
kind,  when  viewed  at  a  diftance.  A  perfon  may  de- 
fire  and  ufe  means  to  prevent  future  exercifes  of  a 
certain  inclination  ;  and,  in  order  to  it,  may  v/ifh 
the  habit  might  be  removed;  but  his  deQres  and  en- 
deavours may  be  ineffedlual.  The  man  may  be  faid 
in  feme  fenfe  to  be  unable  ;  yea,  even  as  the  word 
unable  is  a  relative  term,  and  has  relation  to  inefFcc- 
lual  endeavours ;  yet  not  with  regard  to  prefent,  but 
remote  endeavours. 

Secondly,' It  mull  be  borne  in  mind,  according  to 
what  was  obferved  before,  that  indeed  no  Inability 
whatfocver,  which  is  merely  moral,  is  properly  call- 
ed by  the  name  of  Inability  ;  and  that  in  the  llri6left 
propriety  of  fpeech,  a  man  may  be  faid  to  have  a 
thing  in  his  power,  if  he  has  it  at  his  ele6lion  ;  and 
he  cannot  be  faid  to  be  unable  to  do  a  thing,  when 
he  can,  if  he  now  pleafes,  or  whenever  he  has  a  prop- 
er, dire£l  and  immediate  defire  for  it.  As  to  thofe 
defires  and  endeavours,  that  may  be  againll  the  ex- 
ercifes of  a  flrong  habit,  with  regard  to  which  men 
may  be  faid  to  be  unable  to  avoid  thofe  exercifes, 
they  are  remote  dclires  and  endeavours  in  two  re- 
fpefts.  Firjl,  as  to  time;  they  are  never  againll 
prelent  volitions,  but  only  againll  volitions  of  fuch 
a  kind,  when  viewed  at  a  diftance.  Secondly^  as  to 
their  nature  ;  ihefe  oppofite  defires  are  not  dirc6lly 
and  properly  againll  the  habit  and  inclination  itfelf, 
or  the  volitions  in  which  it  is  exercifed  ;  for  thefe, 
in  themTelves  confidered,  are  agreeable;  but  againll 
iomething  elfe,  that  attends  them,  or  is  their  confe- 


2i6  Commands /Jni  Invitations       Part  III, 

quence  ;  the  oppofuion  of  the  mind  is  levelled  en- 
tirely againft;  this ;  the  inclination  or  volitions  them- 
fclves  are  not  at  all  oppofed  dire61:ly,  and  for  their 
own  fake;  but  only  indiredtly  and  reniotely  on  the 
account  of  fomething  alien  and  foreign. 

III.  Though  the  oppofition  of  the  Will  itfclf,  or 
the  very  want  of  Will  to  a  thing  commanded,  implies 
a  moral  Inability  to  that  thing  ;  yet,  if  it  be,  as  has 
been  already  (hewn,  that  the  being  of  a  good  Rate  or 
a6l  of  Will,  is  a  thing  moll  properly  required  by 
Command  ;  then,  in  fome  cafes,  fuch  a  Rate  or  a6l 
of  Will  may  properly  be  required,  which  at  prefent 
is  not,  and  which  may  alio  be  wanting  after  it  is 
commanded.  And  therefore  thofe  things  may  prop- 
erly be  commanded,  which  men  have  a  moral  Ina- 
bility for. 

Such  a  Rate,  or  a6l  of  the  Will,  may  be  required 
by  Command,  as  does  not  already  exifl.  For  if  that 
volition  only  may  be  commanded  to  be  which  al- 
ready isj  there  could  be  no  ufe  of  precept ;  Com- 
mands in  all  cafes  would  be  perfe6liy  vain  and  im- 
pertinent. And  not  only  may  fuch  a  Will  be  re- 
quired, as  is  wanting  before  the  Command  is  given, 
but  alfo  fuch  as  may  poffibly  be  wanting -afterwards  ; 
fuch  as  the  exhibition  of  the  Command  may  not  be 
efiFeQual  to  produce  or  excite.  Otherwife,  no  fuch 
things  as  Difobedience  to  a  proper  and  rightful  Com- 
mand is  poffible  in  any  cafe  ;  and  there  is  no  cafe 
fuppofable  or  poITiblej  wherein  there  can  be  an  in- 
excufable  or  faulty  Difobedience  ;  which  Arviinians 
cannot  affirm  conliftently  with  their  principles  :  for 
this  makes  Obedience  to  jull  and  proper  Commands 
always  neceffary,  and  Difobedience  impoflTible.  And 
fo  the  Armiman  would  overthrow  himlelf,  yielding 
the  very  point  we  are  upon,  which  he  lo  flrenuouf- 
ly  denies,  viz.  that  law  and  Command  are  conhltent 
with  necelfity. 


Se6l.  IV.     confijicnt  with  moral  Inability,  217 

If  merely  that  Inability  will  excufe  difobedience, 
which  is  implied  in  the  oppoQtion  or  defeat  of  in- 
clination, remaining  after  the  Command  is  exhibited, 
then  wickednefs  always  carries  that  in  it  which  ex- 
cufes  it.  It  is  evermore  fo,  that  by  how  much  the 
more  wickednefs  there  is  in  a  man's  heart,  by  fo 
much  is  his  inclination  to  evil  the  (Ironger,  and  by 
fo  much  the  more,  therefore,  has  he  of  moral  Ina- 
bility to  the  good  required.  His  moral  Inability, 
confiding  in  the  ftrength  of  his  evil  inclination,  is 
the  very  thing  wherein  his  wickednefs  confifts ;  and 
yet,  according  to  Arminian  principles,  it  mud  be  a 
thing  incotififtent  with  wickednefs  ;  and  by  how- 
much  the  more  he  has  of  it,  by  fo  much  is  he  the 
further  from  wickednefs. 

Therefore,  on  the  whole,  it  is  maniftft,  that  moral 
Inability  alone  (which  confifts  in  difinclination) 
never  renders  any  thing  improperly  the  fubje61:  mat- 
ter of  precept  or  Command,  and  never  can  excufe 
any  perfon  in  difobedience,  or  want  of  conformity 
to  a  Command. 

(^Natural  Inability,  arifing  from  the  want  of  natural 
capacity,  or  external  hindrance,  (which  alone  is  prop-  ' 
crly  called  Inability)  without  doubt  wholly  excufes, 
or  makes  a  thing  improperly  the  matter  of  Com- 
mand. If  men  are  excufed  from  doing  or  adHng 
any  good  thing,  fuppofed  to  be  commanded,  it  mufi: 
be  through  fome  defecl  or  obllacle  that  is  not  in  the 
Will  itfelf,  but'*V!jltrinric  to  it  ;  either  in  the  capacity  ^^■ 
of  underftandingj  or  body,  or  outward  circumltances. 

Here  two  or  three  things  may  be  obferved, 

1.  As  to  fpiritual  duties  or  a6ls,  or  any  good  thing 
in  the  ftate  or  imminent  a6ls  of  the  Will  itfelf,  or  of 
the  affections,  (which  are  only  certam  modes  of  the 
exercife  of  the  Will)'if  perfons  are  juftly  excufed,  it 
muft  be  through  want  of  capacity  in  the  natural 
faculty  of  undei Handing.     Thus  the  fame  fpiritual 

F2 


2i8  Commands  ^?2ti  Invitations       Part  III. 

duties,  or  holy  afFe£lions  and  exercifes  of  heart,  can- 
not be  required  of  men,  as  may  be  of  angels  ;  the 
capacity  of  underftandjng  being  fo  much  inferior. 
So  men  cannot  ba  required  to  love  thofe  amiable 
perfons,  whom  they  have  bad  no  opportunity  to  fee, 
or  hear  of,  or  come  to  the  knowledge  of,  in  any  way 
agreeable  to  the  natural  (late  and  capacity  of  the 
human  underftanding.  But  the  infufficiency  of  mo- 
tives will  not  excufe  ;  unlefs  their  being  infufficient 
ariies  not  from  the  moral  (late  of  the  Will  or  incli- 
nation itfelf,  but  from  the  ftate  of  the  natural  under- 
Handing.  The  great  kindnefs  and  generofity  of  an- 
other may  be  a  motive  infufficient  to  excite  grati- 
tude in  the  perfon,  that  receives  the  kindnefs,  thro' 
his  vile  and  ungrateful  temper :  in  this  cafe,  the  in- 
fufficiency of  the  motive  arifes  from  the  ftate  of  the 
Will  or  inclination  of  heart,-  and  does  not  at  all  ex- 
cufe. But  if  this  generofity  is  not  fufficient  to  ex- 
cite gratitude,  being  unknown,  there  being  no  means 
of  information  adequate  to  the  ftate  and  meafure  of 
the  perfon's  faculties,  this  infufficiency  is  attended 
with  a  natural  Inability  vv'hich  entirely  excufes. 

2.  As  to  fuch  motions  of  body,  or  exercifes  and 
alterations  of  mind,  v/hich  does  not  confifl  in  the 
imminent  afts  or  ftate  of  the  Will  itfelf,  but  are  fup- 
pofed  to  be  required  as  eff^e61s  of  the  Will ;  I  fay, 
in  fuch  fuppofed  eff'e6ts  of  the  Will,  in  cafes  where- 
in there  is  no  want  of  a  capacity  of  underftanding  ; 
that  Inability,  and  that  only  excufes,  which  confifts 
in  want  of  connexion  between  them  and  the  Will, 
If  the  Will  fully  complies,  and  the  propofed  efFedl 
does  not  prove,  according  to  the  laws  of  nature,  to 
be  connetled  with  his  volition,  the  man  is  perfe6lly 
excufed  ;  he  has  a  natural  Inability  to  the  thing  re- 
quired. For  the  \Vill  itfelf,  as  has  been  obferved,  is 
all  that  can  be  diredly  and  immediately  required  by 
Command  ;  and  other  things  only  indireQly,  as  con- 


Se£l.  IV.     confijlent  with  moral  Inability.  2 1 9 

ne6led  with  the  Will.  If,  therefore,  there  be  a  full 
compliance  of  Will,  ihe  perfon  has  done  his  duty; 
and  if  other  things  do  not  prove  to  be  conneQed 
with  his  volition,  that  is  not  owing  to  him. 

3.  Both  thefe  kinds  of  natural  Inability  that  have 
been  mentioned,  and  fo  all  Inability  that  excufes, 
may  be  refolved  into  one  thing ;  namely,  want  of 
natural  capacity  or  ilrength  ;  either  capacity  of  un- 
derftanding,  or  external  flrength.  For  when  there 
are  external  defeds  and  obllacles,  they  would  be  no 
obftacles,  were  it  not  for  the  imperfeQion  and  limi- 
tations of  underRanding  and  ftrength. 

Corel,  If  things  for  which  men  have  amoral  Ina- 
bility, may  properly  be  the  matter  of  precept  or 
Command,  then  they  may  alfo  of  Invitation  and 
counfel.  Commands  and  Invitations  come  very  much 
to  the  fame  thing  ;  the  difference  is  only  circumftan- 
tial  :  Commands  arc  as  much  a  manifeftation  of  the 
Will  of  him  that  fpeaks,  as  Invitations,  and  as  much 
teftimonies  of  expedation  of  compliance.  The  dif- 
ference between  them  lies  in  nothing  that  touches 
the  afFair  in  hand.  The  main  difference  between 
Command  and  Invitation  confifis  in  the  enforcement 
of  the  Will  of  him  who  commands  or  invites.  In 
the  latter  it  is  his  kindnefs,  the  goodnefs  which  his 
Will  arifes  from:  in  the  former  it  is  his  authority. — 
But  whatever  be  the  ground  of  the  Will  of  him  that 
fpeaks,  or  the  enforcement  of  what  he  fays,  yet  fee- 
ing neither  his  Will  nor  expe6lation  is  any  more 
teflified  in  the  one  cafe  than  the  other  ;  therefore  a 
perfon's  being  direded  by  Invitation,  is  no  more  an 
evidence  of  infmcerity  in  him  that  dire6is  in  mani- 
felling  either  a  Will,  or  expedation  which  he  has 
not,  than  his  being  known  to  be  morally  unable  to 
do  what  he  is  directed  to  by  command.  So  that  aU 
this  grand  objettion  of  Arminians  againft  the  Ina- 
bility of  fallen  men  to   exert  faith    in  Chi  iff,  or    to 


1220  What  Willingnefs  and  Part  III 

perform  other  fpiritual  gofpel  duties,  from  the  fmcer- 
ity  of  God's  counfels  and  Invitations,  mufl  be  with- 
out force. 


b^CTION       V. 

That  Sincerity  of  defires  and  Endeavours,  which  is 
fuppofed  to  excufe  in  the  Non~pe^ formance  of  Things 
in  thcmf elves  good,  particularly  confidered. 

JLr  is  what  is  much  infifted  on  by  rnany,  that  fome 
men,  though  they  are  not  able  to  perform  fpiritual 
duties,  fuch  as  repentance  of  fm,  love  of  God,  a  cor- 
dial acceptance  of  Chrift  as  exhibited  and  offered  in 
the  gofpel,  Sec,  yet  they  may  (incerely  delire  and 
endeavour  thefe  things  ;  and  therefore  muft  be  ex- 
cufcd  ;  it  being  unreafonable  to  blame  them  for  the 
omiffion  of  thoie  things,  which  they  fincerely  defire 
and  endeavour  to  do,  but  cannot  do. 

Concerning  this  matter,  the  following  things  may 
be  obferved. 

1.  What  is  here  fuppofed,  is  a  great  miilake,  and 
grofs  ablurdity  ;  even  that  men  may  fincerely  choofe 
and  defire  thofe  fpiritual  duties  of  love,  acceptance, 
choice,  reje£lion,  &c.  confifting  in  the  exercife  of  the 
Will  itfelf,  or  in  the  dii'pofition  and  inclination  of 
the  heart ;  and  yet  not  be  able  to  perform  or  exert 
them.  This  is  abfurd,  becaufe  it  is  abfurd  to  fup- 
pofe  that  a  man  Qiould  dire6lly,  properly  and  fin- 
cerely incline  to  have  an  inclination,  which  at  the 
fame  time  is  contrary  to  his  inclination  :  for  that  is 
to  fuppofe  him  not  lo  be  inclmed  to  that,  which  he 
is  inclined  to  If  a  man,  in  the  flate  and  a6ts  of  his 
Will  and  inclination,  does  properly  and  dircdly  fall 
in  with  thofe  4uties,  he  therein  performs  ihcm  ;  for 


SeCt.  V.  Sincerity  is  no  txcufe,  221 

the  duties  themrelves  confift  in  that  very  thing;  they 
confifl  in  the  ftate  and  a6ts  of  the  Will  being  To  form- 
ed and  dire6led.  If  the  toul  properly  and  fincerely 
falls  in  with  a  certain  propofed  ad  of  Will  or  choice, 
the  foal  therein  makes  that  choice  its  own.  Even 
as  when  a  moving  body  falls  in  with  a  propofed  di- 
re6lion  of  its  motion,  that  is  the  fame  things  as  to 
move  in  that  direftion. 

2.  That  which  is  called  a  defire  and  wilUngnefs  for 
thofe  inward  duties,  in  luch  as  do  not  perform,  has 
refpe^t  to  thefe  duties  only  indireQly  and  remotely, 
and  is  improperly  reprefented  as  a  willingnefs  for 
them  ;  not  only  becaufe  (as  was  obferved  before)  it 
refpeds  thofe  good  volitions  only  in  a  diftant  view, 
and  with  rerpe6t  to  future  time  ;  but  alfo  becaufe 
evermore,  not  thefe  things  themfelves,  but  fomething 
elfe,  that  is  alien  and  foreign,  is  the  obje6l  that  ter- 
minates thefe  volitions  and  defires. 

A  drunkard,  who  continues  in  his  drunkennefs, 
being  under  the  power  of  a  love,  and  violent  appetite 
to  ftrong  drink,  and  without  any  love  to  virtue  ;  buc 
being  alfo  extremely  covetous  and  clofe,  and  very 
much  exercifed  and  grieved  at  the  duuinution  of  his 
eflate,  and  profpe6l  of  poverty,  may  in  a  fort  dejire 
the  virtue  of  temperance  ;  and  though  his  prefenfc 
Will  is  to  gratify  his  extravagant  appetite,  yet  he 
may  wi(h  he  had  a  heart  to  forbear  future  a6ls  of  in- 
temperance, and  forfake  his  exceffes,  through  an  un- 
wiilingnefs  to  part  with  his  money  :  but  fliil  he  goes 
on  with  his  drunkennefs;  his  wifhes  and  endeavours 
are  infufficient  and  inefFe61tual  :  fuch  a  man  has  no 
proper,  dired,  hncere  willingnefs  to  forfake  this 
vice,  and  the  vicious  deeds  which  belong  to  it  :  for 
he  a6ls  voluntarily  in  continuing  to  drink  to  excels  : 
his  defire  is  very  improperly  called  a  willingnefs  to 
be  temperate  ;  it  is  no  true  defire  of  that  virtue  ;  for 
It  is  not  that  virtue,  that  terminates  his  wilhes ;  nor 


222  What  Willinrrnefs  and  Part  III. 


£>■ 


have  they  any  dired  rcfpea  at  all  to  it.  It  is  only 
ihefaving  his  money,  and  avoiding  poverty,  that  ter- 
minates andexhaufls  the  whole  flrength  of  his  defire. 
The  virtue  of  temperance  is  regarded  only  very  in- 
dire6lly  and  improperly,  even  as  a  necelTary  means 
of  gratifying  the  vice  of  covetoufnefs. 

So,  a  man  of  an  exceeding  corrupt  and  wicked 
heart,  who  has  no  love  to  God  and  Jefus  Chrifl,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  being  very  profanely  ?nd  carnally 
inclined,  has  the  greatefl  diftafle  of  the  things  of  re- 
ligion, and  enmity  againft  them  ;  yet  being  of  a  fami- 
ly, that  from  one  generation  to  another,  have  mod  of 
them  died,  in  youth,  of  an  hereditary  confumption  ; 
and  fo  having  little  hope  of  living  long  ;  and  having 
been  inflru6ted  in  the  ncceffity  of  a  fupreme  love  to 
Chrifb,  and  gratitude  for  his  death  and  fufiPerings,  in 
order  to  his  falvation  from  eternal  mifery  ;  if  under 
thefe  circumflances  he  fhould,  through  fear  of  eter- 
nal torments,  wifh  he  had  fuch  a  difpofition  :  but 
his  profane  and  carnal  heart  remaining,  he  continues 
ftill  in  his  habitual  diflafte  o/,  and  enmity  to  God  and 
religion,  and  wholly  without  any  exercife  of  that 
love  and  gratitude,  (as  doubtlefs  the  very  devils 
themfelves,  notwithftanding  all  the  deyiliflmefs  of 
their  temper,  would  wilh  for  a  holy  heart,  if  by  that 
means  they  could  get  out  of  hell  :)  in  this  cafe,  there 
is  no  hncere  Willingnefs  to  love  Chrifl  and  choofe 
him  as  his  chief  good  :  thefe  holy  difpofitions  and 
exercifes  are  not  at  all  the  dire6l  obje6l  of  the  Will  : 
they  truly  fhare  no  part  of  the  inclination  or  defire 
of  the  foul  ;  but  all  is  terminated  on  deliverance 
from  torment  :  and  thefe  grrxes  and  pious  volitions, 
notwithftanding  this  forced  confent,  are  looked  upon 
undefirable;  as  when  a  fick  man  defires  a  dofe  he 
greatly  abhors,  to  fave  his  life. — From  thefe  things 
It  appears, 

3.  That  this  indireft  Willingnefs  which  has  been 


Se6l.  V.  Sincerity  is  no  excuje,  223 

fpoken  of,  is  not  that  exercife  of  the  Will  which  the 
command  requires ;  but  is  entirely  a  difiPerent  one  ; 
being  a  volition  of  a  diflferelit  nature,  and  terminated 
altogether  on  different  obje6ls  ;  wholly  falling  fhort 
of  that  virtue  of  Will,  which  the  command  has  re- 
fpe6l  to. 

4.  This  other  volition,  which  has  only  fome  indi- 
rect concern  with  the  duty  required,  cannot  excufe 
for  the  want  of  that  good  will  icfelf,  which  is  com- 
manded ;  being  not  the  thing  which  anfwers  and 
fulfils  the  command,  and  being  wholly  dcltitute  of 
the  virtue  which  the  command  feeks. 

Further  to  iiluflrate  this  matter. — If  a  child  has 
a  moft  excellent  father,  that  has  ever  treated  him 
with  fatherly  kindnefs  and  tendernefs,  and  has  eve- 
ry way,  in  the  highefl  degree,  merited  his  iove  and 
dutiful  regard,  being  with  all  very  wealthy  ;  but  the 
fon  is  of  fo  vile  a  difpofition,  that  he  inveterately 
hates  his  father;  and  yet,  apprehending  that  his  ha- 
tred of  him  is  like  to  prove  his  ruin,  by  bringing 
him  finally  to  poverty  and  abje6l  circumftances, 
through  his  father's  difinheritin;^  him,  orotherwife; 
which  is  exceeding  crofs  to  his  avarice  and  ambi- 
tion ;  he,  therefore,  wifhes  it  were  otherwife  :  but 
yet  remaining  under  the  invincible  power  of  his 
vile  and  malignant  difpoGtion,  he  continues  ftill  in 
his  fettled  hatred  of  his  father.  Now,  if  fuch  a  fon's 
indirect  wiilingnefs  to  have  love  and  honor  towards 
his  father,  at  all  acquits  or  excufes  before  God,  for 
his  failing  of  a6lually  exercihng.  thefe  difpofitions 
towards  him,  which  God  requires,  it  mull  be  on  one 
of  thefe  accounts.  (1.)  Either  that  it  anfwers  and 
fulfils  the  command.  But  this  it  does  not  by  the 
fuppohtion ;  becaufe  the  thing  commanded  is  love 
and  honor  to  his  worthy  parent.  If  the  command 
be  proper  and  juil,  as  is  fuppofed,  then  it  obliges  to 
the  thing  commanded;  and  fo  nothing  elle  but  that 


224  TA^^  Sincerity  of  Endeavours       Part  III, 

can  anfwer  the  obligation.  Or,  (2.)  It  muft  be  at 
leaft,  becaufe  there  is  that  virtue  or  goodnefs  in  his 
indireft  willingnefs,  that  is  equivalent  to  the  virtue 
required  ;  and  (o  balances  or  countervails  it,  and 
makes  up  for  the  want  of  it.  But  that  alfo  is  con- 
trary to  the  fuppofition.  The  willingnefs  the  fon 
has  merely  from  a  regard  to  money  and  honor,  has 
no  goodnefs  in  it,  to  countervail  the  want  of  the  pi- 
ous filial  refpe6l  required. 

Sincerity  and  reality,  in  that  indir£6l:  willingnefs, 
which  has  been  fpoken  of,  does  not  make  it  the  bet- 
ter. That  which  is  real  and  hearty  is  often  called 
fincere  ;  whether  it  be  in  virtue  or  vice.  Some 
perfons  are  fincerely  bad ;  others  are  {inctrtly  good  ; 
and  others  may  be  fincere  and  hearty  in  things, 
which  are  in  their  own  nature  indifferent ;  as  a  man 
may  be  fincerely  defirous  of  eating  when  he  is  hun- 
gry. But  a  being  fincere,  hearty  and  in  good  earn- 
ell,  is  no  virtue,  unlefs  it  be  in  a  thing  that  is  vir- 
tuous. A  man  may  be  fincere  and  hearty  in  join- 
ing a  crew  of  pirates,  or  a  gang  of  robbers.  When 
the  devils  cried  out,  and  befought  Chrift  not  to  tor- 
ment them,  it  was  no  mere  pretence  ;  they  were  ve- 
ry hearty  in  their  defires  not  to  be  tormented  :  but 
this  did  not  make  their  Will  or  defires  virtuous. — 
And  if  men  have  fincere  defires,  which  are  in  their 
kind  and  nature  no  better,  it  can  be  no  excufe  for 
the  want  of  any  required  virtue. 

And  as  a  man's  being  fincere  in  fuch  an  indirc6fc 
defire  or  willingnefs  to  do  his  duty,  as  has  been  men- 
tioned, cannot  excufe  for  the  want  of  performance ; 
fo  it  is  with  Endeavours  arifing  from  fuch  a  willing- 
nefs. The  Endeavours  can  have  no  more  goodnefs 
in  them,  than  the  Will  which  they  are  the  effeft  and 
expreffion  of.  And,  therefore,  however  fincere  and 
real,  and  however  great  a  perfon's  Endeavours  are ; 
yea,  though  they  Ihould  be  to  the  utmoll  of  his  abil- 


Se6l.  V.  is  no  Excufe. 


22 


D 


ity  ;  unlefs  the  Will  v/hich  they  proceed  from  be 
truly  good  and  virtuous,  they  can  be  of  no  avail, 
influence  or  weight  to  any  purpofe  whatfoever,  in  a 
moral  ienfe  or  refpedh  That  which  is  not  truly 
virtuous,  in  God's  fight,  is  looked  upon,  by  lliin,  as 
good  for  nothing:  and  fo  can  be  of  no  value,  weight 
or  influence  in  his  account,  to  recommend,  fatisfy, 
excufe  or  make  up  for  any  moral  dcfedl.  For  noth- 
ing can  counter-balance  evil,  but  good.  If  evil  be 
in  one  icale,  and  we  put  a  great  deal  into  the  other, 
fincere  and  earnell  defires,  and  many  and  great  En- 
deavours :  yet,  if  there  be  no  real  goodnels  in  all, 
there  is  no  weight  in  it;  and  fo  it  does  nothing  to- 
wards balancing  the  real  weight,  which  is  in  the  op- 
polite  fcale.  It  is  only  like  the  fubtrading  a  thouf- 
and  naughts  from  before  a  real  number,  which  leaves 
the  fum  jull  as  it  was. 

Indeed  fuch  Endeavours  may  have  a  negatively 
good  Influence.  Thofe  things,  which  have  no  pofi- 
tive  virtue  have  no  poiitive  moral  influence;  yet 
they  may  be  an  occafion  of  pcrlbns  avoiding  ibme 
poiilive  evils.  As  if  a  man  were  in  the  water 
witli  a  neighbour,  that  he  had  ill-will  to,  v/ho 
could  not  fwim,  holding  him  by  his  hand  ;  which 
neighbour  was  much  in  debt  to  him;  and  fliould 
be  tempted  to  let  him  fnik  and  drown  ;  but  fliould 
rcfule  to  comply  with  the  temptation  ;  not  from 
love  to  his  neighbour,  but  from  the  love  of  mo- 
ney, and  becaufe  by  his  drowning  he  fhould  lole 
his  debt  ;  that  w^hich  he  does  in  preferving  his 
neighbour  from  drowning,  is  nothmg  good  in  the 
light  of  God  :  yet  hereby  he  avoids  the  greater  guilt 
that  would  have  been  contra£led,  if  he  had  defign- 
edly  let  his  neighbour  fink  and  perifh.  But  when 
Arminians,  in  their  difputes  with  CalviniftS,  infifl:  (o 
much  on  fincere  defires  and  Endeavours,  as  what 
mull  excufe  nien,  mxull  be  accepted  of  God,  <^c,  it  ii 

G  2 


2  26  Of  Promlfes  Part  III. 


"V 


manifeft  i\\t.y  have  refpe^l  to  fome  pofitive  moral 
weight  or  influence  of  thofe  defircs  and  Endeavours. 
Accepting,  juHifying  or  excufing  on  the  account  of 
fincere  honefl  Endeavours  (as  they  are  called)  and 
men's  doin<y  what  they  can,  &c.  has  relation  to  fome 
moral  value,  fomething  that  is  accepted  as  good, 
and  as  fuch,  countervaiHng  fome  defedl. 

But  there  is  a  great  and  unknown  deceit  arifing 
from  the  ambiguity  of  the  yA\\2^{^,finurt  Endeavours. 
Indeed  there  is  a  vaft  indiilinctnefs  and  unfixednefs 
in  moft,  or  at  lead  very  many  of  the  terms  ufed  to 
exprefs  things  pertaining  to  moral  and  fpiritual 
matters.  Whence  arife  innumerable  miftakes,  ftrons; 
prejudices,  inextricable  confulion,  and  endlefs  con- 
troverfy. 

The  \'^oxdi  fincere,  is  mod  commonly  ufed  to  figni- 
f)'  fomething  that  is  good  :  men  are  habituated  to 
underfland  by  it  the  fame  as  honejl  and  upright; 
which  terms  excite  an  idea  of  fomething  good  in  the 
ftriQefl  and  highcft  fenfe  ;  good  in  the  fight  of  Him, 
Vv^ho  fees  not  only  the  outward  appearance,  but  the 
heart.  And,  therefore,  men  think  that  if  a  perfon 
be  fincere,  he  will  certainly  be  accepted.  If  it  be 
faid  that  any  one  is  fincere  in  his  Endeavours,  this 
fuggefts  to  men's  minds  as  much,  as  that  his  heart 
and  Will  is  good,  that  there  is  no  defc6l  of  duty,  as 
to  virtuous  inclination  ;  he  honefly  and  uprightly  de- 
fires  and  Endeavours  to  do  as  he  is  required ;  and 
this  leads  them  to  fuppofe.  that  it  would  be  very 
hard  and  unreafonable  to  punifh  him,  only  becaufe 
he  is  unfuccefsful  in  his  Endeavours,  the  thing  en- 
deavoured being  beyond  his  power. — Whereas  it 
ought  to  be  obfcrvcd,  that  the  \v ox H  fncer ehdiS  thefe 
different  fignifications  : 

1.  Sincerity,  as  the  word  is  fomctimes  ufed,  figni- 
fies  no  more  than  reality  of  Will  and  Endeavour,  with 
refpe6l  to  any  thing  that  is  profelTed  or  pretended; 
without  any  confidcration  of  the  nature  of  the  pi  in- 


Se6l.  V.  to  grsicde^s  Endeavours.  227 

ciple  or  aim,  whence  this  real  Will  and  true  Endeav- 
our arifes.  If  a  man  has  fome  real  dcfire  to  obtain 
a  thing,  either  direft  or  indire6l,  or  docs  really  En- 
deavour after  a  thing,  he  is  faid  fincerely  to  defire 
or  Endeavour  it;  without  any  confideration  of  the 
goodnefs  or  virtuoufnefs  of  the  principle  he  aQs 
from,  or  any  excellency  or  worthincfs  of  the  end  he 
a6ts  for.  Thus  a  man  wjho  is  kind  to  his  neigh- 
bour's wife,  who  is  fick  and  languilhing,  and  very 
helpful  in  her  cafe,  makes  a  (hew  of  defiring  and 
endeavouring  her  reftoration  to  health  and  vigour; 
and  not  only  makes  Tuch  a  fhew,  but  there  is  a  real- 
ity in  his  pretence,  he  does  heartily  and  eaineftly 
defire  to  have  her  health  reftored,  and  ufes  his  true 
and  utmoU  Endeavours  for  it;  he  is  faid  fincerely 
to  defire  and  Endeavour  it;  becaufe  he  does  fo  truly 
or  really  ;  though  perhaps  the  principle  he  a6ts 
from,  is  no  other  than  a  vile  and  fcandalous  padion  ; 
having  lived  in  adultery  with  her,  he  earneftly  defires 
to  have  her  health  and  vigour  reftored,  that  he  may 
return  to  his  criminal  pleafures  with  her.     Or, 

2.  By  fincerity  is  meant,  not  merely  a  reality  of 
Will  and  Endeavour  of  fome  fort  or  other,  andfrom 
fome  confideration  or  other,  but  a  virtuous  fincerity. 
That  is,  that  in  the  performance  of  thofe  particular 
a6is,  that  are  the  matter  of  virtue  or  duty,  there  be 
not  only  the  matter,  but  the  form  and  elfence  of  vir- 
tue, confiding  in  the  aim  that  governs  the  att,  and 
the  principle  exercifed  in  it.  There  is  not  only  the 
reality  of  the  a61:,  that  is  as  it  w^ere  the  body  of  the 
duty  ;  but  alfo  the  fi)iil,  which  fhould  properly  be- 
long to  fuch  a  body.  In  this  fcnfe,  a  man  is  faid 
to  be  fincere,  when  hea6ls  v/ith  a  pure  intention  ;  not 
from  finifter  views,  or  bye-ends :  he  not  only  in  re- 
ality defires  and  feeks  the  thing  to  be  done,  or  qual- 
ification to  be  obtained,  for  fome  end  or  other  ;  but 
he  Wills  the  thing  diredly  and  properly,  as  neither 


228  O/Promifes  Part  IIL 

forced  nor  bribed ;  iht  virtue  of  the  thing  is  prop- 
erly the  objed  of  the  Will. 

In  the  former  fenfe,  a  man  is  faid  to  be  fjnccre, 
in  oppofition  to  a  mere  pretence,  ?\ndJIi€zo  ofthepar- 
ticular  thing  to  he  done  or  exhibited,  without  any  real 
defire  or  Endeavour  at  all.  In  the  latter  fenfe,  a 
man  is  faid  to  be  fincere,  in  oppofition  to  {\\7i\.  Jliexi} 
of  virtue  there  is  in  merely  doing  the  matter  cj  duty, 
without  the  reality  of  the  virtue  itfelf  in  the  foul, 
and  the  cffcnce  of  it,  which  there  is  a  (hew  of.  A 
man  may  be  fincere  in  the  former  fenfe,  and  yet  in 
the  latter  be  in  the  fight  of  God,  who  fearches  the 
heart,  a  vile  hypocrite. 

In  the  latter  kind  of  fmcerity,  only,  is  there  any 
thing  truly  valuable  or  acceptable  in  the  fight  of 
God.  And  this  is  the  thing,  which  in  Scripture  is 
^dWtdifincerity,  uprightnefs^  integrity,  truth  in  the  inward 
parts ^  and  a  being  of  a  perfeEl  heart.  And  if  there  be 
fuch  a  fincerity,  and  fuch  a  degree  of  it  as  there 
ought  to  be,  and  there  be  any  thing  further  that  the 
man  is  not  able  to  perform,  or  which  does  not  prove 
to  be  conne61ed  with  his  fincere  defires  and  En- 
deavours, the  man  is  wholly  excufed  and  acquitted 
in  the  fight  of  God;  his  Will  fhall  furely  be  accept- 
ed for  his  deed:  and  fuch  a  fincere  Will  and  En- 
deavour is  all  that  in  flriQnefs  is  required  of  him, 
by  any  command  of  God.  But  as  to  the  other  kind 
of  fincerity  of  defires  and  Endeavours,  it  having  no 
virtue  in  it,  (as  v\ras  obferved  before)  can  be  of  no 
avail  before  God,  in  any  cafe,  to  recommend,  fatis- 
fy,  or  excufe,  and  has  no  pofitive  moral  weight  or 
influence  whatfoever. 

Corol.  1.  Hence  it  may  be  inferred,  that  nothing 
in  the  reafon  and  nature  of  things  appears,  from  the 
fonCderation  of  any  moral  weight  of  that  former 
kind  of  fincerity,  which  has  been  fpokcn  of,  at  all 
obliging  us  to  believe,  or  leading  us  to  fuppofe,  that 


Sc6l.  V.  (0  gY2iCc\ch  Endeavours,  229 

God  has  made  any  pofitlve  Promifcs  of  falvation, 
or  grace,  or  any  faving  affiftance,  or  any  fpiritual 
benefit  whatfoever,  to  any  Defires,  Prayers,  Endeav- 
ours, Striving,  or  Obedience  of  thofe,  who  hitherto 
have  no  true  virtue  orholinefs  in  their  hearts;  tho* 
vv^c  fliould  fuppofeall  the  Sincerity,  and  the  utmofl: 
degree  of  Endeavour,  that  is  pofTible  to  be  in  a  per- 
fon  without  holinefs. 

Some  objeQ  againfl;  God's  requiring,  as  the  con- 
dition of  falvation,  thofe  holy  cxercifes,  which  are 
the  refult  of  a  fupernatural  renovation  :  fuch  as  a 
fapreme  refpedl  to  Chrift,  love  to  God,  loving  holi- 
nefs for  its  own  fake,  &c.  that  thefe  inward  difpofi- 
tions  and  exercifes  are  above  nfien's  power,  as  they 
are  by  nature  ;  and  therefore  that  we  may  conclude, 
that  when  men  are  brought  to  be  fincere  in  their  En- 
deavours, and  do  as  well  as  they  can,  they  are  ac- 
cepted ;  and  that  this  mud  be  all  that  God  requires, 
in  order  to  men's  being  received  as  the  objects  of 
his  favour,  and  mud  be  what  God  has  appointed  as 
the  condition  of  falvation.  Concerning  which,  I 
would  obferve,  that  in  fuch  a  manner  of  fpeakingof 
men's  being  accepted,  hecaufc  they  are  fincere,  and  do  as 
xoell  as  they  can,  there  is  evidently  a  fuppofition  of 
fome  virtue,  feme  degree  of  that  which  is  truly  good  ; 
though  it  does  not  go  fo  far  as  were  to  be  wiflied. 
For  if  men  do  what  they  can,  unlefs  their  fo  doing  be 
from  fome  good  principle,  difpofition,  or  exercife 
of  heart,  fome  virtuous  inclination  or  a6l  of  the 
Will ;  their  fo  doing  what  they  can,  is  in  fome  ref- 
pe6ls  not  a  whit  better  than  if  they  did  nothing  at 
r.ll.  In  fuch  a  cafe,  there  is  no  more  pofitive  mor- 
fil  goodncfs  in  a  man's  doing  what  he  can,  than  in  a 
wind-mill's  doing  what  it  can  ;  becaufe  the  a6lion 
docs  no  more  proceed  from  virtue;  and  there  is 
nothing  in  fuch  fincerity  of  Endeavour,  or  doing 
what  we  can,  that  fliould  render  it  any  more  a  prop- 


230  Indifference  Inconfijltnt  Part  III. 

er  or  fit  recommendation  to  pofitive  favour  and  ac- 
ceptance, or  the  condition  of  any  reward  or  aftual 
benefit,  than  doing  nothing  :  for  both  the  one  and 
the  other  are  alike  nothing,  as  to  any  true  moral 
weight  or  value. 

CoroL  2,  Hence  alfo  it  follov/s,  there  is  nothing 
that  appears  in  the  reafon  and  nature  of  things,  which 
can  juftly  lead  us  to  determine,  that  God  will  cer- 
tainly give  the  necelTary  means  of  falvation,  orfome 
way  or  other  beftow  true  holinefs  and  eternal  life  on 
thofe  Heathen,  who  are  fmcere  (in  the  fenfe  above 
explained)  in  their  Endeavours  to  find  out  the  Will 
of  the  Deity,  and  to  pleafe  him,  according  to  their 
light,  that  they  may  efcape  his  future  difpleafure 
and  wrath,  and  obtain  happinefs  in  the  future  (late, 
through  his  favour. 


Section     VI. 

Liberty  o/' Indifference,  not  only  not  necejfary  to  Virtue, 
but  utterly  inconfijlent  zoith  it  ;  and  all,  either  virtu- 
cus  or  vicious  Habits  or  Inclinations,  inconfijlent 
with  Arminian  Notions  of  Liberty  and  moral  Agency. 

JL  o  fuppofe  fuch  a  freedom  of  Vv^ill,  as  Arminians 
talk  of,  to  be  requifite  to  Virtue  and  v'icQ,  is  many 
w^ays  contrary  to  common  fenfe. 

If  Indifference  belongs  to  Liberty  of  Will,  as  Ar- 
minians  fuppofe,  and  it  be  eflential  to  a  virtuous  ac- 
tion, that  it  be  performed  in  a  flate  of  Liberty,  as 
they  alfo  fuppofe;  it  will  follow,  that  it  is  effential 
to  a  virtuous  aeiion,  that  it  be  performed  in  a  ftate 
of  Indifference  :  and  if  it  be  performed  in  e^Jlate  of 
Indifference,  then  doubtlefs  it  muft  be  performed  in 
the  time  of  Indifference,     And  fo  it  vv^ill  follow,  that 


Seel  VI.  withYiYtMe.  23! 

in  order  to  the  virtuoufnefs  of  an  a6l,  the  heart  muft 
be  indifferent  in  the  time  of  the  performance  of  that 
ad,  and  the  more  indifferent  and  cold  the  heart  is 
with  relation  to  the  ad,  v.^hichis  performed,  lb  rnuch 
the  better ;  becaufe  the  ad  is  performed  with  fo 
much  the  greater  Liberty.  But  is  this  agreeable  to 
the  light  of  nature  ?  Is  it  agreeable  to  the  notions, 
which  mankind,  in  all  ages,  have  of  Virtue,  that  it 
lies  in  that,  which  is  contrary  to  Indifference,  even 
in  the  tendency  and  inclinatiGn  of  the  heart  to  virtu- 
ous adion  ;  and  that  the  llronoer  the  inclination, 
and  fo  the  further  from  Indifference,  the  more  vir- 
tuous the  heart,  and  fo  much  more  praife-worthy  the 
acl  which  proceeds  from  it  ? 

If  we  fhould  fuppofe  (contrary  to  what  has  been 
before  demonilrated)  that  there  may  be  an  ad  of 
Will  in  a  Rate  of  Indifference  ;  for  in  (lance,  this  ad, 
viz.  The  Vv^ilTs  determining  to  put  itfeif  out  of  a 
ftate  of  Indifference,  and  give  itfeif  a  prepondera- 
tion  one  way,  then  it  v/ould  follow,  on  ArrniniaTi 
principles,  that  this  ad  or  determination  of  the  Will 
is  that  alone  wherein  Virtue  confifts,  becaufe  this 
only  is  performed,  while  the  mind  remains  in  a  ftate 
of  Indifference,  and  fo  in  a  (late  of  Liberty  :  for 
when  once  the  mind  is  put  out  of  its  equilibrium, 
it  is  no  longer  in  fuch  a  flate  ;  and  therefore 
all  the  ads,  which  follow  afterwards,  proceeding 
from  bias,  can  have  the  nature  neither  of  Vir- 
tue nor  Vice.  Or  if  the  thing,  which  the  Vv'^ill 
can  do,  while  yet  in  a  ftate  of  Indifference,  and  fo 
of  Liberty,  be  only  to  fufpend  ading,  and  determine 
to  take  the  matter  into  confideration,  then  this  de- 
termination is  that  alone  wherein  Virtue  confifts, 
and  not  proceeding  to  adion  after  the  fcale  is  turned 
by  confideration.  So  that  it  will  follow,  from  thefe 
principles,  all  that  is  done  after  the  mind,  by  any 
means,  is  once  out  of  its  equilibrium  and  already 
poffefled  by  an  inclination,   and  arifing  from   that 


232  Indifference  Inconfijlcnt  Part  III. 

inclination,  has  nothing  of  the  nature  of  Virtue  or 
Vice,  and  is  worthy  of  neither  blame  or  praife.  But 
how  plainly  contrary  is  this  to  the  univerfal  fenfe  of 
mankind,  and  to  the  notion  they  have  of  fincerely 
virtuous  a6Hons  ?  Which  is,  that  they  are  a6lions, 
which  proceed  from  a  heart  xjodl  difpofcd  and  inclin- 
ed ;  and  the  Jlronger,  and  the  more  Jixed  and  deter- 
mined the  good  difpolition  of  the  heart,  the  greater 
the  finceriiy  of  Virtue,  and  fo  the  more  of  the  truth 
and  reality  of  it.  But  if  there  be  any  ads,  which 
are  done  in  a  (late  of  equilibrium,  or  fpring  imme- 
diately from  perfe6i;  IndifFerence  and  coldnefs  of 
heart,  they  cannot  arife  from  any  good  principle  or 
difpofition  in  the  heart ;  and,  confequently,  accord- 
ing to  common  fenfe,  have  no  (incere  goodnefs  in 
them,  having  no  virtue  of  heart  in  them.  To  have 
a  virtuous  heart,  is  to  have  a  heart  that  favours  Vir- 
tue, and  is  friendly  to  it,  and  not  one  perfectly  cold 
and  indifferent  about  it. 

And  befides,  the  adions  that  are  done  in  a  flate  of 
IndifFerence,  or  that  arife  immediately  out  of  fuch  a 
flate,  cannot  be  virtuous,  becaufe,  by  the  fuppofition, 
they  are  not  determined  by  any  preceding  choice. 
For  if  there  be  preceding  choice,  then  choice  inter- 
venes between  the  a6l  and  the  ftate  of  Indifference  ; 
which  is  contrary  to  the  fuppofition  of  the  a£t's  arif- 
ing  immediately  out  of  Indifferet^ce.  But  thofe  ads, 
which  are  not  determined  by  preceding  choice,  can- 
not be  virtuous  or  vicious  by  Arminian  principles, 
becaufe  they  are  not  determined  by  the  Will.  So 
that  neither  one  way,  nor  the  other,  can  any  a6lions 
be  virtuous  or  vicious,  according  to  Arminian  prin- 
ciples. If  the  adion  be  determined  by  a  preceding 
ad  of  choice,  it  cannot  be  virtuous  ;  becaufe  the  ac- 
tion is  not  done  in  a  ftate  of  Indifference,  nor  dots 
immediately  arife  from  fuch  a  ftate;  and  fo  is  not 
done  in  a  ftate  of  Liberty.     If  the  adion  be  not  de- 


Sed.  VL  .    'with  Virtue.  233 

termined  by  a  preceding  a6l  of  choice,  then  it  cannot 
be  virtuous  ;  becaufe  then  the  Will  is  not  felf-de- 
termined  in  it.  So  that  it  is  made  certain,  that  neith- 
er Virtue  nor  Vice  can  ever  find  any  place  in  the 
univerfe. 

Moreover,  that  it  is  neceflary  to  a  virtuous  aQion 
that  it  be  performed  in  a  ftate  of  Indifference,  under 
a  notion  of  that  being  a  (late  of  Liberty,  is  contrary 
to  common  fenfe  ;  as  it  is  a  di6late  of  common  fenfe, 
that  Indifference  itfelf,  in  many  cafes,  is  vicious,  and 
fo  to  a  high  degree.  As  if  vvhea  I  fee  my  neigh- 
bour or  near  friend,  and  one  who  has  in  the  highefl 
degree  merited  of  me,  in  extreme  diftrefs,  and  ready 
to  perifh,  I  find  an  Indifference  in  my  heart  with  re- 
fpe6l  to  any  thing  propofed  to  be  done,  which  I  can 
eafily  do,  for  his  relief.  So  if  it  Oiould  be  propofed 
to  me  to  blafpheme  God,  or  kill  my  father,  or  do 
numberlefs  other  things,  which  might  be  mentioned  : 
the  being  indifferent,  for  a  moment,  would  be  high- 
ly vicious  and  vile. 

And  it  may  be  further  obferved,  that  to  fuppofe 
this  Liberty  of  Indifference  is  effential  to  Virtue  and 
Vice,  deflroys  the  great  difference  of  degrees  of  the 
guilt  of  different  crimes,  and  takes  away  the  hein- 
oufnefs  of  the  mofl  flagitious  horrid  iniquities  ;  fuch 
as  adultery,  befliality,  murder,  perjury,  blafphemy, 
&c.  For,  according  to  thefe  principles,  there  is  no 
harm  at  all  in  having  the  mind  in  a  ftate  of  peifed^ 
Indifference  with  refpedl  to  thefe  crimes  :  nay,  it  is 
abfolutely  neceffary  in  order  to  any  Virtue  in  avoid- 
ing them,  or  Vice  in  doing  them.  But  for  the  mind 
to  be  in  a  ftate  of  Indifference  with  refpeft  to  them, 
is  to  be  next  door  to  doing  them  :  it  is  then  infinite- 
ly near  to  choofing,  and  fo  commicting  the  fa6l :  for 
equilibrium  is  the  next  ftep  to  a  degree  of  prepon- 
deration  ;  and  one,  even  the  leaft  degree  of  prepon- 
deration,  (all  things  confidered)  is  choice.     And  not 

Ha 


234  Of  virtuous   •  Part  III, 

only  fo,  but  for  the  Will  to  be  in  a  flate  of  perfe6l 
equilibrium  with  refpetl  to  fach  crimes,  is  for  the 
nund  to  be  in  fuch  a  flate,  as  to  be  full  as  likely  to 
choofe  them  as  to  refufe  them,  to  do  them  as  to  omit 
them.  And  if  our  minds  mull  be  in  fuch  a  flate, 
wherein  it  is  as  near  to  choofing  as  refufing,  and 
wherein  it  muft  of  ricceflity,  according  to  the  nature 
of  things,  be  as  likely  to  commit  them,  as  to  refrain 
from  them;  where  is  the  exceeding  heinoufnefs  of 
choofing  and  committing  them  ?  If  there  be  no  harm 
in  often  being  in  fuch  a  lUte,  wherein  the  probabili- 
ty of  doing  and  forbearing  are  exa6lly  equal,  there 
being  an  equiUbrium,  and  no  more  tendency  to  one 
than  the  other  ;  then,  according  to  the  nature  and 
laws  of  fuch  a  contingence,  it  may  be  expeded,  as 
an  inevitable  confequence  of  fuch  a  difpofition  of 
things,  that  we  (hould  choofe  them  as  often  as  reje6l 
them  :  that  it  fhould  generally  fo  fall  out  is  neceffa- 
ry,  as  equality  in  the  efFe8:  is  the  natural  confequence 
of  the  equal  tendency  of  the  caufe,  or  of  the  antece- 
dent (late  of  things  from  which  the  elle6l  arifcs.  Why 
then  fliould  we  be  fo  exceedingly  to  blame,  if  it  does 
fofall  out  ? 

It  is  many  ways  apparent,  that  the  Arminian 
fcheme  of  Liberty  is  utterly  inconfiftent  with  the  be- 
ing of  any  fuch  things  as  either  virtuous  or  vicious 
habits  or  difpofitions.  If  Liberty  of  Indifference  be 
elTential  to  moral  agency,  then  there  can  be  no  Vir- 
tue in  any  habitual  inclinations  of  the  heart ;  which 
are  contrary  to  Indifference,  and  imply  in  their  na- 
ture the  very  dcllru6lion  and  exclufion  of  it.  They 
fuppofe  nothing  can  be  virtuous,  in  which  no  Liber- 
ty is  cxercifed  ;  but  how  abfurd  is  it  to  talk  of  ex- 
crcifing  Indifference  under  bias  and  preponderation  ! 

And  '\^  JdJ- determining  poiuer  in  the  Will  be  necef- 
fary  to  moral  agency,  praife,  blame,  <?ic.  then  noth- 
ing done  by  the   Will  can  be  any  further  praife  or 


Seel.  VI.  and  vicious  li dibits,  435 

blame-worthy,  than  fo  far  as  the  Will  is  moved, 
fwayed  and  determined  by  iifelf,  and  the  fcales  turn- 
ed hy  the  fovereign  power  the  Will  has  over  itlelF. 
And  therefore  the  Will  nniii  not  be  pat  out  of  its 
balance  already,  the  preponderation  mull  not  be  de- 
termined and  cffefted  before- hand  ;  and  fo  ihe  felf- 
determining  a6l  anticipated.  Thus  it  appears  anoth- 
er v/ay,  that  habitual  bias  is  inconGdent  with  that 
Liberty,  which  Arminiaiis  fuppofe  to  be  neceffary  to 
Virtue  or  Vice  ;  and  fo  it  follows,  that  habitual  bias 
itfelf  cannot  be  either  virtuous  or  vicious. 

The  fame  thing  follows  from  their  do6lrine  con- 
cerning the  Inconfiflence  of  Ncceffity  with  Liberty, 
Praife,  Difpraife,  Sec,  None  will  deny,  that  bias  and 
inclination  may  be  fo  (Irong  as  to  be  invincible,  and 
leave  no  polTibility  of  the  Will's  determining  contra- 
ry to  it ;  and  fo  be  attended  with  Neceflity.  This 
Dr.  Whitby  allows  concerning  the  Will  of  God, 
Angels,  and  glorious  Saints,  with  rcfpeft  to  good  ; 
and  the  Will  of  Devils  with  refpeft  to  evil.  There- 
fore, if  Neceffity  be  inconfiflent  with  Liberty  ;  then, 
when  fixed  inclination  is  to  fuch  a  degree  of  flrength, 
it  utterly  excludes  all  Virtue,  vice,  praife  or  blame. 
And,  if  ib,  then  the  nearer  Kabits  are  to  this  flrength, 
the  more  do  they  impede  Liberty,  and  fo  diminifli 
praife  and  blame.  If  very  (Irong  Habits  deflroy 
Liberty,  the  lefler  ones  proportionably  hinder  it,  ac- 
cording to  their  degree  of  ftrengih.  And  therefore 
it  will  follow,  that  then  is  the  atl  moft  virtuous  or 
vicious,  when  performed  without  any  inrjination  or 
habitual  bias  at  all ;  becaufe  it  is  then  performed 
witji  moll  Liberty. 

Every  prepolTriring  fixed  bias  on  the  mind  brings 
a  degree  of  moral  inability  for  the  contrary  ;  becaufe 
fo  far  as  thcmind  is  biafed  and  prepolIeiTed,  fo  much 
hinder ance  is  there  of  the  contrary.  And  therefore 
if  moral  inability  be  inconfillent  wilh  moral  agency, 


23^  OJ  virtuous  Part  IIL 

or  the  nature  of  Virtue  and  Vice,  then,  fo  far  as  there 
is  any  fuch  thing  as  evil  difpofition  of  heart,  or  hab- 
itual depravity  of  inclination  ;  whether  covetoufnefs, 
pride,  malice,  cruelty,  or  whatever  elfe  ;  fo  much 
the  more  excufeable  perfons  are;  fo  much  the  lefs 
have  their  evil  a6ls  of  this  kind  the  nature  of  Vice, 
And,  on  the  contrary,  whatever  excellent  difpofitions 
and  inclinations  they  have,  fo  much  are  they  the  lefs 
virtuous. 

It  is  evident,  that  no  habitual  difpofition  of  heart, 
whether  it  be  to  a  greater  or  lefs  degree,  can  be  in 
any  degree  virtuous  or  vicious  ;  or  the  anions  which 
proceed  from  them  at  all  praife  or  blame-worthy. — 
Becaufe,  though  we  fhould  fuppofe  the  Habit  not 
to  be  of  fuch  ftrength,  as  wholly  to  take  away  all 
moral  ability  and  lelf-determining  power  ;  or  hinder 
but  that,  although  the  a6l  be  partly  from  bias,  yet  it 
may  be  in  part  from  felf  determination  ;  yet  in  this 
cafe,  all  that  is  from  antecedent  bias  mufl  be  fet  a- 
fide,  as  of  no  confideration  ;  and  in  eftimating  the 
degree  of  Virtue  or  Vice,  no  more  muft;  be  confider- 
ed  than  what  arifes  from  felf-determining  power, 
Without  any  influence  of  that  bias,  becaufe  Liberty 
is  exercifed  in  no  more  :  fo  that  all  that  is  the  exer- 
cife  of  habitual  inclination,  is  thrown  away,  as  not 
belonging  to  the  morality  of  the  a6lion.  By  which 
it  appears,  that  no  exercife  of  thefe  Habits,  let  them 
be  (Ironger  or  weaker,  can  ever  have  any  thing  of  the 
nature  of  either  Virtue  or  Vice. 

Here  if  any  one  fliould  lay,  that  notwithflanding 
all  thefe  things,  there  may  be  the  nature  of  Virtue 
jind  Vice  in  the  Habits  of  the  mind  ;  becaufe  thefe 
Ilabits  may  be  the  effefls  of  thofe  a6ls,  wherein  the 
mind  exercifed  Liberty ;  that  however  the  foremen- 
tioned  reafons  will  prove  that  no  Habits,  which  are 
patural,  or  that  are  born  or  created  with  us,  can  be 
either  virtuous  or  vicious  ;  yet  they  will  not  prove 


SeQ;.  VI.  and  vicious  Habits.  237 

this  of  Habits,  which  have  been  acquired  and  eftab- 
lifhed  by  repeated  free  a6ls. 

To  fuch  an  objedor  I  would  fay,  that  this  evafion 
will  not  at  all  help  the  matter.  For  if  freedom  of 
Will  be  effential  to  the  very  natuj'e  of  Virtue  and 
Vice,  then  there  is  no  Virtue  or  Vice  but  only  in 
that  very  thing,  wherein  this  Liberty  is  exercifed.  If 
a  man  in  one  or  more  things,  that  he  does,  exerciles 
Liberty,  and  then  by  thofe  a6ls  is  brought  into  fuch 
circumftances,  that  his  Liberty  ceafes,  and  there  fol- 
lows a  long  feries  of  a6lsor  events  that  come  to  pafs 
neceflarily ;  thofe  confequent  a6ts  are  not  virtuous  or 
vicious,  rewardable  or  punifhable ;  but  only  the  free 
a6ls  that  eftablilhed  this  neceflity;  for  in  them  alone 
was  the  man  free.  The  following  eflPefts,  that  are 
necelTary,  have  no  more  of  the  nature  of  Virtue  or 
Vice,  than  health  or  ficknefs  of  body  have  properly 
the  nature  of  Virtue  or  Vice,  being  the  effe6ts  of  a 
courfe  of  free  a6ls  of  temperance  or  intemperance  ; 
or  than  the  good  qualities  of  a  clock  are  of  the  na- 
ture of  Virtue,  which  are  the  effeds  of  free  a6ls  of 
the  artificer ;  or  the  goodnefs  and  fweetnefs  of  the 
fruits  of  a  garden  are  moral  Virtues,  being  the  efFe6ls 
of  the  free  and  faithful  a6ls  of  the  gardener.  If  Lib- 
erty beabfolutely  requifite  to  the  morality  of  adions, 
and  necefTity  wholly  inconfiflent  with  it,  ^s  Arminians 
greatly  infifl ;  then  no  neceffary  effcBs  whatfoever,  let 
the  caufe  be  never  fo  good  or  bad,  can  be  virtuous 
or  vicious  ;  but  the  Virtue  or  vice  mud  be  only  in  the 
free  caufe.  Agreeably  to  this,  Dr.  Whitby  fuppofes, 
the  neceflity  that  attends  the  good  and  evil  Habits  of 
the  faints  in  heaven,  and  damned  in  hell,  which  are 
the  confequence  of  their  free  adls  in  their  (late  of 
probation,  are  not  rewardable  or  punifhable. 

On  the  whole,  it  appears,  that  if  the  notions  of 
Arminians  conceieing  liberty  and  moral  agency  be 
true,  it  will  follow,  that  there  is  no  Virtue  in  any 


^3^  0/  virtuous  and  vicious  Habits.     Part  III, 

fuch  Habits  or  qualities  as  humility,  meeknefs,  pa- 
tience, mercy,  gratitude,  generofity,  heavenly-mind- 
ednefs  ;  nothing  at  all  praife- worthy  in  loving  Chrift 
above  father  and  mother,  wife  and  children,  or  our 
own  lives ;  or  in  delight  in  holinefs,  hungering  and 
thirfting  after  righteoufnefs,  love  to  enemies,  univer- 
fal  benevolence  to  mankind  :  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  nothing  at  all  vicious,  or  worthy  of  difpraife, 
in  the  mod  fordid,  beaRly,  malignant,  delivifh  dif- 
pofitions;  in  being  ungrateful,  profane,  habitually 
bating  God,  and  things  facred  and  holy  ;  or  in  be- 
ing moft  treacherous,  envious,  and  cruel  towards 
men.  For  all  thefe  things  are  dijpofitions  and  incli" 
nations  0^  the  heart.  And  in  (hort,  there  is  no  fuch 
thing  as  any  virtuous  or  vicious  quality  of  mind  ;  no 
fuch  thing  as  inherent  virtue  and  holinefs,  or  vice 
and  fin  :  and  the  llronger  thofe  Habits  or  difpofi- 
tions  are,  which  ufed  to  be  called  virtuous  and  vi- 
cious, the  further  they  are  from  being  fo  indeed  ;  the 
more  violent  men's  lulls  are,  the  more  fixed  their 
pride,  envy,  ingratitude  and  malicioufnefs,  ftill  the 
further  are  they  from  being  blame-worthy.  If  there 
be  a  man  that  hy  his  own  repeated  ads,  or  by  any 
other  means,  is  come  to  be  of  the  moft  hellifli  dif- 
pofition,  defperately  inclined  to  treat  his  neighbours 
with  injurioufnefs,  contempt  and  malignity  ;  the 
further  they  fhould  be  from  any  difpofition  to  be 
angry  with  him,  or  in  the  leaft  to  blame  him.  So, 
on  the  other  hand,  if  there  be  a  perfon,  who  is  of  a 
moft  excellent  fpirit,  ftrongly  inclining  him  to  the 
moft  amiable  a6lions,  admirably  meek,  benevolent, 
&c.  fo  much  is  he  further  from  any  thing  rewarda- 
ble  or  commendable.  On  which  principles,  the  man 
Jefus  Chrift  was  very  far  from  being  praife- worthy 
for  thofe  ads  of  holinefs  and  kindnefs,  which  He 
performed,  thefe  propenfities  being  ftrong  in  his 
Jieart,     And  above  all,  the  infinitely  holy  and  gra.. 


Se£l.  VI.     Arminianifm  inconjijlent,  G?c.  23$ 

cious  God  is  infinitely  remote  from  any  thing  com- 
mendable, his  good  inclinations  being  infinitely 
ftrong,  and  He,  therefore,  at  the  utmofl  pofiTible  dif- 
tance  from  being  at  liberty.  And  in  all  cafes,  the 
flronger  the  inclinations  of  any  are  to  virtue,  and 
the  more  they  love  it,  the  lefs  virtuous  they  are ;  and 
the  more  they  love  wickednefs,  the  lefs  vicious. — 
Whether  thefe  things  are  agreeable  to  Scripture,  let 
every  Chriftian,  and  every  man  who  has  read  the 
Bible,  judge:  and  whether  they  are  agreeable  to 
common  fenfe,  let  every  one  judge,  that  has  humaa 
underftanding  in  exercife. 

And,  if  we  purfue  thefe  principles,  we  fball  find 
that  virtue  and  vice  are  wholly  excluded  out  of  the 
world;  and  that  there  never  was,  nor  ever  can  be 
any  fuch  thing  as  one  or  the  other ;  either  in  God, 
angels  or  men.  No  propenfity,  difpofilion  or  Hab- 
it can  be  virtuous  or  vicious,  as  has  been  (fievv^n;  be- 
caufe  they,  fo  far  as  they  take  place,  deftroy  the  free- 
dom of  the  Will,  the  foundation  of  all  moral  agen- 
cy, and  exclude  all  capacity  of  either  Virtue  or  Vice. 
— And  if  Habits  and  difpoiitions  thcmfelves  be  not 
virtuous  nor  vicious,  neither  can  the  exercife  of  thefe 
difpofitions  be  fo  :  for  the  exercife  of  bias  is  not  the 
exercife  o^  free  fclf-dder mining  Will,  and  fo  there  is 
no  exercife  of  liberty  in  it.  Confequently,  no  man 
is  virtuous  or  vicious,  either  in  being  well  or  ill-diU 
pofed,  nor  in  atling  from  a  good  or  bad  difpofition. 
And  whether  this  bias  or  difpofiiion,  be  habitual  or 
not,  if  it  exifts  but  a  moment  before  the  a6l;  of  Will, 
which  is  the  e{Te6t  of  it,  it  alters  not  the  cafe,  as  to 
the  neceflity  of  the  eifed.  Or  if  there  be  no  pre- 
vious difpofition  at  all,  either  habitual  or  occafional, 
that  determines  the  a6t,  then  it  is  not  choice  that  de- 
termines it  :  it  is  therefore  a  contingencc,  that  hap- 
pens to  the  man,  arifing  from  nothing  in  him  ;  and 
IS  necellary,   as  to  any  inclination  or  choice  of  his ; 


24:0    Motive  and  Inducement  inconfijlent     Part  III* 

and,  therefore,  cannot  make  him  either  the  better  or 
worfe,  any  more  than  a  tree  is  better  than  other  trees, 
becaufe  it  oftener  happens  to  be  lit  upon  by  a  fwan 
or  nightingale  :  or  a  rock  more  vicious  than  other 
rocks,  becaufe  rattle-fnakes  have  happened  oftener  to 
crawl  over  it.  So  that  there  is  no  Virtue  or  Vice 
in  good  or  bad  difpofitions,  either  fixed  ortranfient; 
nor  any  Virtue  or  Vice  in  a6ling  from  any  good  or 
bad  previous  inclination  ;  nor  yet  any  virtue  or  vice, 
in  afting  wholly  without  any  previous  inclination. 
Where  then  Ihall  we  find  room  for  Virtue  or  Vice  ? 


Section     VII. 

Arminian  Notions  oj  moral  Agency  inconjijlent  with  all 
injlicence  of  Motive  and  Inducement,  in  either  virtu- 
ous or  vicious  A£lions» 

As  Arminian  notions  of  that  liberty,  which  is  eflen- 
tial  to  virtue  or  vice,  are  inconfiftent  with  common 
fenfe,  in  their  being  inconfiftent  with  all  virtuous 
and  vicious  habits  and  difpofitions  ;  fo  they  are 
no  lefs  fo  in  their  inconhftency  with  all  influence  of 
Motives  in  moral  atlions. 

It  is  equally  againft  thofe  notions  of  liberty  of 
Will,  whether  there  be,  previous  to  the  a6i  of  choice, 
a  preponderancy  of  the  inclination,  or  a  preponder- 
ancy  of  thofe  circumftances,  which  have  a  tendency 
to  move  the  inclination.  And,  indeed,  it  comes  to 
juft  the  fame  thing  ;  to  fay,  the  circumftances  of  the 
mind  are  fuch  as  tend  to  fway  and  turn  its  inclina- 
tion one  v/ay,  is  the  fame  thing  as  to  fay,  the  inclina- 
tion of  the  mind,  as  under  fuch  circumftances,  tends 
that  way. 

Or  if  any  think  it  moft  proper  to  fay,  that  Motives 


ScEt.  VII.     'with  Arminian  Virtue  and  Vice.         241 

do  alter  the  inclination,  and  give  a  new  bias  to  the 
mind,  it  will  not  alter  the  cafe,  as  to  the  preCent  ar- 
gument. For  if  Motives  operate  by  giving  the  mind 
an  inclination,  then  they  operate  by  deftroying  the 
mind's  indifference,  and  laying  it  under  a  bias.  But 
to  do  this,  is  to  dellroy  the  Arminian  freedom  :  it  is 
not  to  leave  the  Will  to  its  own  felf-determination, 
but  to  bring  it  into  fubje6lion  to  the  power  of  fome- 
thing  extrinfic,  which  operates  upon  it,  fways  and 
determines  it,  previous  to  its  own  determination.  So 
that  what  is  done  from  Motive,  cannot  be  either  vir- 
tuous or  vicious.  And  befides,  if  the  a6ls  of  the 
Will  are  excited  by  Motives,  thofe  Motives  are  the 
caufes  of  thofe  a6ls  of  the  Will  ;  which  makes  the- 
a6is  of  the  Will  neceffary  ;  as  effeds  neceffarily  fol- 
low the  efficiency  of  the  caufe.  And  if  the  influejice 
and  power  of  the  Motive  caufes  the  volition,  then 
the  influence  of  the  Motive  determines  volition,  and 
volition  does  not  determine  itfelf ;  and  fo  is  not  free, 
in  the  fenfe  of  Arminians,  (as  has  been  largely  fhewn 
already)  and  confequently  can  be  neither  virtuous 
nor  vicious. 

The  fuppofition,  which  has  already  been  taken 
notice  of  as  an  infufficient  evafion  in  other  cafes, 
would  be,  in  like  manner,  impertinently  alledged  in 
this  cafe  ;  namely,  the  fuppofition  that  liberty  con- 
fills  in  a  power  of  fufpending  a6lion  for  the  prefect, 
in  order  to  deliberation.  If  it  fliould  be  faid, 
though  it  be  true,  that  the  Will  is  under  a  necefiity 
of  finally  following  the  flrongeft  Motive ;  yet  it  may, 
for  the  prefent,  forbear  to  a^  upon  the  Motive  pre- 
fented,  till  there  has  been  opportunity  thoroughly 
to  confider  it,  and  compare  its  real  weight  v^'ith  the 
merit  of  other  Motives.     I  anfwcr  as  follows  : 

Here  again,  it  mufl  be  remembered^  that  if  deter- 
mining thus  to  fufpend  and  confider,  be  that  a6t  of 
the  Will,  wherein  alone  liberty  is  exercifed,  then  in 

I   2 


242     Motive  attd  Inducement  inconjijlent     Part  III. 

this  all  virtue  and  vice  rnuft  confift  ;  and  the  a6i:s  that 
follow  this  confideraiion,  and  are  the  efFe6ls  of  it,  be- 
ing neccffary,  are  no  more  virtuous  or  vicious  than 
feme  good  or  bad  events,  which  happen  when  they 
are  fad  alleep,  and  are  the  confequences  of  what 
they  did  when  they  were  awake.  Therefore,  I  would. 
here  obferve  two  things  : 

1.  To  fuppofe,  that  all  virtue  and  vice,  in  every 
cafe,  confills  in  determining,  whether  to  take  time 
for  confideration  or  not,  is  not  agreeable  to  common 
fenfe.  For,  according  to  fuch  a  fuppoQtion,  the 
mod  horrid  crimes,  adallery,  murder,  fodomy,  blaf- 
phemy,  &c,  do  not  at  all  confift  in  the  horrid  nature 
pf  the  things  themfelves,  but  only  in  the  negled  of 
'thorough  confideration  before  they  were  perpetrated, 
which  brings  their  vicioufnefs  to  a  fmail  matter,  and 
makes  all  crimes  equal.  If  it  be  faid,  that  negleft 
of  confideration,  when  fuch  heinous  evils  are  pro- 
pofed  to  choice,  is  v/orfc  than  in  other  cafes :  I  an- 
fv;er,  this  is  inconfiPtent,  as  it  fuppofes  the  very  thing 
to  be,  which,  at  the  fame  time,  is  fuppofed  not  to  be  ; 
it  fuppofes  all  moral  evil,  ail  vicioufnefs  and  heinr 

-oufncfs,  does  not  confiil  merely  in  the  want  of  con- 
fideration. It  fuppofes  fome  crimes  in  them/elves,  in 
their  own  nature,  to  be  more  heinous  than'others,  an- 
tecedent to  confideration  or  inconfideration,  which 
lays  the  perfon  under  a  previous  obligation  to  con- 
fider  in  fome  cafes  more  than  others. 

2.  If  it  were  fo,  that  all  virtue  and  vice,  in  every 
cafe,  confided  only  in  the  a£l  of  the  Will,  whereby 
it  determines  whether  to  confukr  or  no,  it  would  not 
alter  the  cafe  in  the  lead,  as  to  the  prefent  argument. 
For  dill  in  this  a6t  of  the  Will  on  this  determina- 
tion, it  is  induced  by  fome  Motive,  and  neceffarily 
follows  the  dronged  Motive  ;  and  fo  is  necedarily, 
even  in  that  act  wherein  alone  it  is  either  virtuous 
or  vicious. 


Se£l.  VII.     with  Arminian  Virtue  and  Vice,  243 

One  thing  more  I  would  obrerve,  concerning  the 
inconfiftence  of  Arminian  notions  of  moral  agency 
with  the  influence  of  Motives. — I  fuppofe  none  will 
deny,  that  it  is  pofTible  for  Motives  to  be  fet  before 
the  mind  fo  powerful,  and  exhibited  in  fo  ftrong  a 
light,  and  under  fo  advantageous  circumftances,  as 
to  be  invincible ;  and  fuch  as  the  mind  cannot  but 
yield  to.  In  this  cafe,  Arminians  will  doubtlefs  fay, 
liberty  is  deflroyed.  And  if  fo,  then  if  Motives  are 
exhibited  with  half  fo  much  power,  they  hinder  lib- 
erty in  proportion  to  their  fcrength,  and  go  half-way 
towards  deltroying  it.  If  a  thoufand  degrees  of  Mo- 
tive abolifh  all  liberty,  then  five  hundred  take  it  half 
away.  If  one  degree  of  the  influence  of  Motive  does 
not  at  all  infringe  or  diminifh  liberty,  then  no  more 
do  two  degrees  ;  for  nothing  doubled,  is  flili  noth- 
ing. And  if  two  degrees  do  not  diminifh  the  Will's 
liberty,  no  more  do  four,  eight,  fixteen,  or  fix  thouf- 
and. For  nothing  multiplied  never  fo  much,  comes 
to  but  nothing.  If  there  be  nothing  in  the  nature 
of  Motive  or  moral  fuafion,  that  is  at  all  oppofite  to 
liberty,  then  the  greatefl  degree  of  it  cannot  hurt 
liberty.  But  if  there  be  any  thing  in  the  nature  of 
the  thing,  that  is  againfl  liberty,  then  the  leafl  de- 
gree of  it  hurts  it  in  fome  degree  ;  and  confequently 
hurts  and  diminifhes  virtue.  If  invincible  Motives, 
to  that  adion  which  is  good,  take  away  all  the  free- 
dom of  the  act,  and  fo  all  the  virtue  of  it ;  then  the 
more  forcible  the  Motives  are,  fo  much  the  worfe, 
fo  much  the  lefs  virtue  ;  and  the  weaker  the  Motives 
are,  the  better  for  the  caufe  of  virtue  ;  and  none  is 
beft  of  all. 

Now  let  it  be  confidered,  whether  thefe  things  are 
agreeable  to  common  fenfe.  If  it  fhould  be  allowed, 
that  there  are  fome  inflances  wherein  the  foul  choofes 
without  any  Motive,  what  virtue  can  there  be  in 
fuch  a  choice  ?  I  am  fure,   there  is  no  prudence  or 


^44     Armin,  Argument  from  the  Sincerity     Part  III. 

wifdom  in  it.  Such  a  choice  is  made  for  no  good 
end  ;  for  it  is  for  no  end  at  all.  If  it  were  for  any 
end,  the  viewr  of  the  end  would  be  the  Motive  ex- 
citing to  the  aft  ;  and  if  the  a6l  be  for  no  good  end, 
and  fo  from  no  good  aim,  then  there  is  no  good  in- 
tention in  it ;  and,  therefore,  according  to  all  our 
natural  notions  of  virtue,  no  more  virtue  in  it  than 
in  the  mocion  of  the  fmoke,  which  is  driven  to  and 
fro  by  the  wind,  without  any  aim  or  end  in  the  thing 
moved,  ?.nd  which  knows  not  whether,  nor  why  and 
wherefore,  it  is  moved. 

CoroL  1.  By  thefe  things  it  appears,  that  the  argu- 
ment againft  the  Calvinijis,  taken  from  the  ufe  of 
counfels,  exhortations,  invitations,  expoftulations, 
&c.  fo  much  infifted  on  by  Arminians,  is  truly  againft 
themfelves.  For  thefe  things  can  operate  no  other 
way  to  any  good  effeft,  than  as  in  them  is  exhibited 
motive  and  inducement,  tending  to  excite  and  de- 
termine the  a6ls  of  the  Will.  But  it  follows,  on 
their  principles,  that  the  a6ts  of  Will  excited  by 
fuch  caufes,  cannot  be  virtuous ;  becaufe,  fo  far  as 
they  are  from  thefe,  they  are  not  from  the  WilTs  felf- 
determining  power.  Hence  it  will  follow,  that  it  is 
not  worth  the  while  to  offer  any  arguments  to  per- 
fuade  men  to  any  virtuous  volition  or  voluntary  ac- 
tion ;  it  is  in  vain  to  fet  before  them  the  wifdom  and 
amiablenefs  of  ways  of  virtue,  or  the  odioufnefs  and 
folly  of  ways  of  vice.  This  notion  of  liberty  and 
moral  agency  fruflrates  all  endeavours  to  draw  men 
to  virtue  by  inftrudion  or  perfuafion,  precept  or  ex- 
ample :  for  though  thefe  things  may  induce  men  to 
what  is  materially  virtuous,  yet  at  the  fame  time  they 
take  away  the  Jorm  of  virtue,  becaule  they  deftroy 
liberty  ;  as  they,  by  their  own  power,  put  the  Will 
put  of  its  equilibrium,  determine  and  turn  the  fcale, 
and  take  the  work  of  felf-dctermining  power  out  of 
fts  hands.     And  the  clearer  the  inflrudions  that  arq 


S.  VII.  o/" Invitations,  ^c,  againjl  themfelves.     245 

given,  the  more  powerful  the  arguments  thaf  are 
ufed,  and  the  more  moving  the  pcrfuafiuns  or  ex- 
amples, the  more  likely  they  are  to  fruftrate  their 
own  defign  ;  becaufe  they  have  fo  much  the  greaier 
tendency  to  put  the  Will  out  of  its  balance,  to  hin- 
der its  freedom  of  felf-determination  ;  and  fo  f  o  ex- 
clude the  very  form  of  virtue,  and  the  effence  of 
whatfoever  is  praife- worthy. 

So  it  clearly  follows,  from  thefe  principles,  that 
God  has  no  hand  in  any  man's  virtue,   nor  does   at 
all  promote   it,   either  by  a  phyfical  or  moral  influ- 
ence ;  that  none  of  the  moral  methods  He  ufes  with 
men  to  promote  virtue  in  the  world,   have  tendency 
to  the  attainment  of  that  end;  that  all  the   inftruc- 
tions,  which  He  has  given  to  men,  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  world  to  this  day,  by  Prophets  or  Apof- 
tles,  or  by  His  Son  Jefus  Chrift ;  that  all  his  coun- 
fels,  invitations,  promifes,  threatenings,  warnings  and 
expoftulations  ;   that  all   means  He  has  ufed  with 
men,  in  ordinances,  or  providences  ;  yea,  ail  influ- 
ences of  his  Spirit,  ordinary  and  extraordinary,  have 
had  no  tendency  at  all  to  excite  any  one  virtuous  aft 
of  the  mind,  or  to  promote  any  thing  morally  good 
or  commendable,  in  any  refpe61;.     For  there  is  no 
way  that  thefe  or  any  other  means  can  promote  vir- 
tue, but  one  of  thefe  three.     Either  (i.j  By  a  phyfi- 
cal operation  on  the  heart.     But  all  effe6ls  that  are 
wrought  in  men  this  way,  have  no  virtue  in  them,  by 
the  concurring  voice  of   all  Arminians.      Or,  (2.) 
Morally,  by  exhibiting  motives  to  the  undeiftanding, 
to  excite  good  atls  in  the  Will.     But  it  has  been  de- 
monftrated,  that  volitions,  which  are  excited  by  mo- 
tives, are  neceffary,  and  not  excited  by  a  felf-moving 
power  ;  and  therefore,    by   their  principles,   there  is 
no  virtue  in  them.     Or,  (3.)  By  merely  giving  the 
Will  an  opportunity  to   determine  itfelf  concerning 
the  obje61s  propofed,  either  to  choofe  or  reje6l,  by  itj( 


J24^         Arminianirm  excludes  all  Virtue,      Part  III. 

own  iincaufcd,  unirjovecl,  uninfluenced  felf-determi- 
nation.  And  if  this  be  alj,  then  all  thofe  means  do 
no  more  to  promote  virtue  than  vice  :  for  they  do 
nothing  but  give  the  Will  opportunity  to  determine 
itfelf  either  way,  either  to  good  or  bad,  without  lay- 
ing it  under  any  bias  to  either  :  and  fo  there  is  really 
as  much  oC  an  opportunity  given  to  determine  in 
favor  of  evil,  as  of  good. 

Thus  that  horrid  blafphemous  confequence  will 
certainly  follow  from  the  Arminian  do6trine,  which 
they  charge  on  others  ;  namely,  that  God  a6ls  an 
inconfiftent  part  in  ufing  fo  m«ny  counfels,  warn- 
ings, invitations,  intreaties,  ^c.  v/ith  (inners,  to  in- 
duce them  to  forfake  fin,  and  turn  to  the  ways  of 
virtue  ;  and  that  all  are  infmcere  and  fallacious.  It 
will  follow,  from  their  dodiine,  that  God  does  thefe 
things  when  he  knows,  at  the  fame  time,  that  they 
have  no  manner  of  tendency  to  promote  the  eiFe6t 
Pie  feems  to  aim  at  ;  yea,  knows  that  if  they  have 
any  influence,  this  very  influence  will  be  inconfiO:- 
cnc  with  fuch  an  e(Fe6i:,  and  will  prevent  it.  Bat 
what  an  imputation  of  infmcerity  v/ould  this  fix  on 
Him,  Vv'ho  is  infinitely  holy  and  true  ! — So  that 
thcii's  is  the  docl;rine  which,  if  puifued  in  its  confe- 
quences,  does  horribly  refle6l  on  the  Moft  High,  and 
fix  on  Him  the  charge  of  hypocrify  ;  and  not  the 
do6frine  of  the  Calvinijls  ;  according  to  their  fre- 
quent, and  vehement  exclamations  and  invecfivcs. 

CoroL  2.  From  what  has  been  obferved  in  this 
fe£lion,  it  again  appears,  that  Arminian  principles 
and  notions,  when  fairly  examined  and  purfued  in 
their  demonflrable  confequences,  do  evidently  fliut 
all  virtue  out  of  the  world,  and  make  it  impoffible 
that  there  fhould  ever  be  any  fuch  thing,  in  any 
cafe;  or  that  any  fuch  thing  fliouldever  be  conceiv- 
ed of.  For,  by  thefe  principles,  the  very  notion  of 
virtue  or  vice  implies  ablurdity  and  contradidion, — 


Sed.  VII.         and  Vice  out  of  the  World,  247 

For  it  is  abfurd  in  itfelf,   and  contrary  to  commoa 
ienfe,  to  fuppofea  virtuous  a6l  of  mind  without  any 
good  intention  or  aim  ;  and,  by  their  principles,  it 
IS  abfurd  to   fuppole  a  virtuous  a61:  v;ich  a  good  in- 
tention or  aim ;  for  to  ad  for  an  end,  is  to  atl  from 
n  Motive.     So  that   if  we  rely   on  thefe   principles, 
there  can  be  no  virtuous  adl  v/ith  a  good  delign  and 
end;  and  it  is  fclf- evident,  there  can  be  none  with- 
out: confequcnliy  there  can  be  no  virtuous  a6l  at  all. 
Corel.  3.  It  is  manifefl;.  that  Arminian  notions  of 
moral  agency,  and  the  being  of  a  faculty  of  V/ill, 
cannot  confitl   together;  and  that   if  there  be   any 
fuch  thing  as  either  a  virtuous  or  vicious  aft,  it  can- 
not be  an   act    of  the  Will  ;  no   \Y\\\  can  be  at  all 
concerned  in   it.     For  that  a£l  which  is  performed 
without   inclination,   without  Motive,  wirliout  end, 
muft  be  performed  without  any  concern  of  the  Will. 
To  fuppofe  an  aft  of  the  Will  without  thefe,  implies 
a  contradidion.     If  the  foul  in  its  a£l  has  no  motive 
or  end;  then,  in  that  a6t  (as  v/a5  obfcrved  before)  it 
feeks  nothing,  goes  after  nothing,  exerts  no  inclina- 
tion to  any  thing;  and  this  implies,  that  in  that  a6l 
it  defires  nothing,  and  choofes  nothing  ;  fo  that  there 
is  no  a6l  of  choice  in  the  cafe:  and  that  is  as  much 
as  to  fay,  there  is  no  a61;  of  Will  in  the  cafe.  Which 
very  efFedually    fhuts  all  vicious  and  virtuous  a61s 
out  of  the  univerfe  ;  in  as  much  as,  according  to  this, 
there  can  be  no  vicious  or  virtuous  a6l  wherein  the 
Will  is   concerned;  and  ac-cording   to  the   plained 
di6lates  of  reafon,  and  the  light  of  nature,  and  alfo 
the  principles  of  Arminians  themfelves,  (here  can  be 
no  virtuous  or  vicious   aft  wherein  the  V/ill  is  not: 
concerned.     And  therefore  there  is  no  room  for  any- 
virtuous  or  vicious  afts  at  all. 

Coral.  4.  If  none  of  the  moral  aftions  of  intelli- 
gent beings  are  influenced  by  either  previous  Incli- 
«ation  or  Motive,  another  ftrange  thing  will  follow; 


24^  Armin.  excludes  all  Virtue,  8cc,     Part  III, 

and  this  is,  that  God  not  only  cannot  foreknow  any 
of  the  future  moral  anions  of  his  creatures,  but  he 
can  make  no  conjcdlure,  can  give  no  probable  guefs 
concerrxing  them.  For  all  conjefture  in  things  of 
this  nature,  mufl  depend  on  fome  difcerning  or  ap- 
prehenfion  of  thefe  two  things,  previous  Difpofuion 
and  Motive,  which,  as  has  been  obferved,  Arminian 
notions  of  moral  agency,  in  their  real  conlequence, 
altogether  exclude. 


PART     IV. 


Wherein  the  chief  grounds  of  the  reafonings  of  Armini- 
ans,  in  fupport  and  defence  of  the  forementioned  no^ 
tions  of  Liberty,  moral  Agency,  G?c.  and  againfl 
the  oppofite  dodrine,  are  confidercd. 


Section     I. 

The  EfTence  of  the  Virtue  and  Vice  of  Difpofitiom  of 
■    the   Heart,  and   A6ls  of  the  Will,  lies   net   in  their 
Caufe,   but  their  NatuTC. 

vJne  main  foundation  of  the  reafons  which  are 
brought  to  eftabliHi  the  forementioned  notions  of 
liberty,  virtue,  vice,  ^c.  is  a  fuppofuion,  that  the 
virtuoufnefs  of  the  difpofitions,  or  aCts  of  the  Will, 
confifts  not  in  the  nature  of  thefe  difpofitions  or  aQs, 
but  wholly  in  the  origin  or  Caufe  of  them  :  fo  that 
if  the  difpofition  of  the  mind,  or  a6ls  of  the  Will, 
be  never  fo  good,  yet  if  the  Caufe  of  the  difpofition 
or  a61:  be  not  our  virtue,  there  is  nothing  virtuous  or 
praife-worthy  in  it;  and,  on  the  contrary,. if  the 
Will,  in  its  inclination  or  a£ls,  be  never  fo  bad,  yet, 
unlefs  it  arifes  from  fomething  that  is  our  vice  or 
Fault,  there  is  nothing  vicious  or  blam.c-worthy  in  it. 
Hence  their  grand  objedion  and  pretended  demon- 
ftration,  or  felf-evidcnce,  againfl  any  virtue  and 
commendablenefs,  or  vice  and  blame- worthinefs,  of 
thofe  habits  or  a6ls  of  the  Will,  which  arc  not  from 
fome  virtuous  or  vicious  determination  of  the  Will 
itfelf. 

Kz 


250         OJihe  Effence  oj  Virtue  and  Vice,     Part  IV. 

Nov\r,  if  this  matter  be  well  conGdered,  it  will  ap- 
pear to  be  altogether  a  miftake,  yea,  a  grofs  abfurd- 
ity;  and  that  it  is  moft  certain,  that  if  there  be  any 
luch  things  as  a  virtuous  or  vicious  difpofition,  or 
volition  of  mind,  the  virtuoufnefs  or  vicioufnefs  of 
them  confifts  not  in  the  origin  or  caufe  of  thefe 
things,  but  in  the  nature  of  them. 

It  the  Eflence  of  virtuoufnefs  or  commendable- 
nefs,  and  of  vicioufnefs  or  fault,  does  not  lie  in  the 
nature  of  the  difpofitions  or  a6is  of  mind,  which  are 
faid  to  be  our  virtue  or  our  fault,  but  in  their  Caufe, 
then  it  is  certain  it  lies  no  where  at  all.  Thus,  for 
inftance,  if  the  vice  of  a  vicious  a6l  of  Will,  lies  not 
in  the  Nature  of  the  a6l,  but  the  Caufe;  fo  that  its 
being  of  a  bad  Nature  will  not  make  it  at  all  our 
fault,  unlefs  it  arifes  from  fome  faulty  determination 
of  our's,  as  its  Caufe,  or  fomcthing  in  us  that  is  our 
fault :  then,  for  the  fame  reafon,  neither  can  the  vi- 
cioufnefs of  that  Caufe  lie  in  the  nature  of  the  thing 
itfelf,  but  in  its  Caufe :  that  evil  determination  of 
our's  is  not  our  fault,  merely  becaufe  it  is  of  a  bad 
Nature,  unlefs  it  arifes  from  fome  Caufe  in  us  that 
is  our  fault.  And  when  we  are  come  to  this  higher 
Caufe,  ftill  the  reafon  of  the  thing  holds  good;  tho* 
this  Caufe  be  of  a  bad  Nature,  yet  we  are  not  at  all 
to  blame  on  that  account,  unlefs  it  arifes  from  fomc- 
thing faulty  in  us.  Nor  yet  can  blame- worthincfs 
lie  in  the  Nature  of  this  Caufe,  but  in  the  Caufe  of 
that.  And  thus  we  mull  drive  faultinefs  back  from 
ftep  to  ftep,  from  a  lower  Caufe  to  a  higher,  in  inji^ 
nitum  :  and  that  is,  thoroughly  to  banifti  it  from  the 
world,  and  to  allow  it  no  poflTibility  of  exiflence  any 
where  in  the  univerfality  of  things.  On  thefe  prin- 
ciples, vice,  or  moral  evil,  cannot  conlift  in  any 
thing  that  is  an  effeB ;  becaufe/^w/^  does  not  conlift 
in  the  Nature  of  things,  but  in  their  Caufe;  as  well 
as  becaufe  effc6ls  are  necclfary,   being  unavoidably 


Sea.  I.     The  Effence  of  Virtue  and  Vice,  G?c.         251 

conne6led  with  their  Caufe :  therefore  the  Caufe 
only  is  to  blame.  And  fo  it  follows,  that  faultincfs 
can  lie  only  in  that  Caufe,  which  is  a  Caufe  only,  and 
no  efFe6l  of  any  thing.  Nor  yet  can  it  He  in  this  ; 
for  then  it  muft  lie  in  the  Nature  of  the  thing  itfelf ; 
not  in  its  being  from  any  determination  of  our's,  nor 
any  thing  faulty  in  us  which  is  the  Caufe,  nor  in- 
deed from  any  Caufe  at  all  ;  for,  by  thefuppofition, 
it  is  no  etFeft,  and  has  no  Caife,  And  thus,  he  that 
will  maintain,  it  is  not  the  Nature  of  habits  or  a£ls 
of  Will  that  makes  them  virtuous  or  faulty,  but  the 
Caufe,  mufl:  immediately  run  himfelf  out  of  his 
own  affertion  ;  and  in  maintaining  it,  will  infeniibly 
contradict  and  deny  it. 

This  is  certain,  that  if  cffe6ls  are  vicious  and  faul- 
ty, not  from  their  Nature,  or  from  any  thing  inher- 
ent in  them,  but  becaufe  they  are  from  a  bad  Caufe, 
it  mufl:  be  on  account  of  the  hadnefs  of  the  Caufe  :  a 
bad  efFe6l  in  the  Will  muft  be  bad,  becaufe  the 
Caufe  is  bad,  or  of  an  evil  Nature,  or  has  hadnefs  as  a 
quality  inherent  in  it :  and  a  good  efFe6l  in  the 
Will  mufl:  be  good,  by  reafon  of  the  goodnefs  of  the 
Caufe,  or  its  being  of  a  good  kind  and  Nature,  And 
if  this  be  what  is  meant,  the  very  fuppofition  of 
fault  and  praife  lying  not  in  the  Nature  of  the  thing, 
but  the  Caufe,  contradi6ts  itfelf,  and  does  at  leafl: 
refolve  the  ElTence  of  virtue  and  vice  unto  the  Na- 
ture of  things,  and  fuppofes  it  originally  to  confifl: 
in  that. — And  if  a  caviller  has  a  mind  to  run  from 
the  abfurdity,  by  faying,  **  No,  the  fault  of  the  thing, 
*'  which  is  the  Caufe,  lies  not  in  this,  that  the  Caufe 
**  itfelf  is  of  an  evil  Nature,  but  that  the  Caufe  is  evil 
*'  in  that  fenfe,  that  it  is  from  another  bad  Caufe." 
Still  the  abfurdity  will  follow  him ;  for,  if  fo  then 
the  Caufe  before  charged  is  at  once  acquitted,  and 
all  the  blame  mufl:  be  laid  to  the  higher  Caufe,  and 
muft  confift  in  that's  being  evil  or  of  an  evil  Nature, 


fi52  The  Effence  of  Virtue  and  Vice,     Part  IV. 

So  novsr,  we  arc  come  again  to  lay  the  blame  of  the 
thing  blame-worthy,  to  the  Nature  of  the  thing,  and 
not  to  the  Caufe.  And  if  any  is  fo  foolifh  as  to  go 
higher  llill,  and  afcend  from  ftep  to  (Icp,  till  he  is 
come  to  that,  which  is  the  firft  Caufe  concerned  in 
the  whole  affair,  and  will  fay,  all  the  blame  lies  in 
that;  then,  at  laff,  he  mufl  be  forced  to  own,  that 
the  faultinefs  of  the  thing,  which  he  fuppofes  alone 
blame-worthy,  lies  wholly  in  the  Nature  of  the  thing, 
and  not  in  the  original  or  Caufe  of  it ;  for  the  fup- 
pofition  is,  that  it  has  no  original,  it  is  determined 
hy  no  a6t  of  our's,  is  caufed  by  nothing  faulty  in  us, 
being  ablolutely  zvithoiU  any  Caufe,  And  fo  the  race 
is  at  an  end,  but  the  evader  is  taken  in  his  flight. 

It  is  agreeable  to  the  natural  notions  of  mankind, 
that  moral  evil,  with  its  defert  of  diflike  and  abhor- 
rence, and  all  its  other  ill-defervings,  confifls  in  a 
certain  deformity  in  the  Nature  of  certain  difpolitions 
of  the  heart,  and  a6ls  of  the  Will ;  and  not  in  the 
deformity  of  fomcthing  dfe,  diverfe  from  the  very 
thing  itfelf,  which  deferves  abhorrence,  fuppofed  to 
be  the  Caufe  of  it.  Which  would  be  abfurd,  be- 
caufe  that  would  be  to  fuppofe  a  thing,  that  is  in- 
nocent and  not  evil,  is  truly  evil  and  faulty,  be- 
caufe  another  thing  is  evil.  It  implies  a  contradic-. 
tion ;  for  it  would  be  to  fuppofe  the  very  thing, 
which  is  morally  evil  and  blame-worthy,  is  inno- 
cent and  not  blame- worthy  ;  but  that  iomething 
elfe,  which  is  its  Caufe,  is  only  to  blame.  To  fay, 
that  vice  does  not  confift  in  the  thing  which  is  vi- 
cious, but  in  its  Caufe,  is  the  fame  as  to  fay,  that 
vice  does  not  confiil  in  vice,  but  in  that  which  pro- 
duces it. 

It  is  true,  a  Caufe  may  be  to  blame,  for  being  the 
Caufe  of  vice :  it  may  be  wickednefs  in  the  Caufe, 
that  it  produces  wickednefs.  But  it  would  imply  a 
CPntradi^ion,  to  fuppofe  that  thefe  two  are  the  fame 


Seel.  I.        in  ike  Nature  of  Volition,  (3c.  25^ 

individual  wickednefs.  Tiie  wicked  ad  of  the  Caufe 
in  producing  wickednefs,  is  one  wickednefs  ;  and  the 
wickednefs  produced,  if  there  be  any  produced,  is 
another.  And  therefore,  the  wickednefs  of  the  lat- 
ter does  not  lie  in  the  former,  but  is  diftinft  from  it ; 
and  the  wickednefs  of  both  lies  in  the  evil  Natiirt  of 
the  things,  which  are  wicked. 

The  thing,  which  makes  fin  baneful,  is  that  by 
which  it  deferves  punifhment  ;  which  is  but  the  ex- 
predion  of  hatred.  And  that,  which  renders  virtue 
lovely,  is  the  fame  with  that,  on  the  account  of  which, 
it  is  fit  to  receive  praife  and  reward;  which  are  but 
the  expreffion  of  efteem  and  love.  But  that  which 
makes  vice  hateful,  is  its  hateful  Nature ;  and  that 
which  renders  virtue  lovely,  is  its  amiable  Nature. 
It  is  a  certain  beauty  or  deformity  that  are  inhtrtnt'wi 
that  good  or  evil  Will,  which  is  the  foul  of  virtue  and 
vice  (and  not  in  the  occafion  of  it)  which  is  their  wor- 
thinefs  of  efteem  or  difeft:cem,  praife  or  difpraife, 
according  to  the  common  fenfe  of  mankind.  If  the 
Caufe  or  occafion  of  the  rife  of  an  hateful  difpofi- 
tion  or  a6l  of  Will,  be  alfo  hateful ;  fuppofe  another 
antecedent  evil  Will ;  that  is  entirely  another  fin,  and 
deferves  puiiiflimenfc  by  itfelf,  under  a  diftindl  con* 
fideration.  There  is  wcrthinefs  of  difpraife  in  the 
Nature  of  an  evil  volition,  and  not  wholl)'  in  fome 
foregoing  a6i,  which  is  its  Caufe;  otherwife  the  evil 
volition,  which  is  the  effete,  is  no  moral  evil,  any 
more  than  ficknefs,  or  fome  other  natural  calamity, 
which  arifes  from  a  Caufe  morally  evil. 

Thus,  for  inftancc,  ingratitude  is  hateful  and 
v/orthy  of  difpraife,  according  to  common  fenfe  ; 
not  becnufe  fomething  V,bad,  or  worfe  than  ingrat- 
itude, was  the  Caufe  that  produced  it;  but  bccaufc 
it  is  hateful  in  itfelf,  by  its  own  inherent  deformity. 
So  the  love  of  virtue  is  amiable,  and  worthy  of  praife, 
not  merely  becaufe  iomcthing  t\{Q  went  before  this 


254  ^^^  Eflence  of  Virtue  and  Vice,     Part  1\\ 

love  of  virtue  in  our  minds,  which  c.iufed  it  to  take 
place  there  ;  for  intlance,  our  own  choice  ;  we  chofc 
to  love  virtue,  and,  by  fome  method  or  other,  wrought 
ourfelves  into  the  love  of  it ;  but  becaufe  of  the  a- 
miablenefs  and  condefccndency  of  fuch  a  difpofi- 
lion  and  inclination  of  heart.  If  that  w^j  the  cafe, 
that  we  did  choofe  to  love  virtue,  and  fo  produced 
that  love  in  ourfelves,  this  choice  itfelf  could  be  no 
otherwife  amiable  or  praife-worthy,  than  as  love  to 
virtue,  or  fome  other  amiable  inclination,  was  ex- 
ercifed  and  implied  in  it.  If  that  choice  was  amia- 
ble at  all,  it  mull  be  fo  on  account  of  fome  amiable 
quality  in  the  nature  of  the  choice.  If  we  chofe  to 
love  virtue,  not  in  love  to  virtue,  or  any  thing  that 
was  good,  and  exercifed  no  fort  of  good  difpofition 
in  the  choice,  the  choice  itfelf  was  not  virtuous,  nor 
worthy  of  any  praife,  according  to  common  fenfe, 
becaufe  the  choice  was  not  of  a  good  Nature. 

It  may  not  be  improper  here  to  take  notice  of 
fomething  faid  by  an  author,  that  has  lately  made  a 
mighty  noife  in  America.  "  A  neceffary  holinefs 
*' (fays  he*)  is  no  holinefs.—- Adam  could  not  be 
"  originally  created  in  righteoufnefs  and  true  holi- 
**  nefs,  becaufe  he  mud  choofe  to  be  righteous,  before 
*'  he  could  be  righteous.  And  therefore  he  mud 
*'  exift,  he  raufl  be  created,  yea,  he  mufl  exercife 
*'  thought  and  reflexion,  before  he  was  righteous." 
There  is  much  more  to  the  fame  effect  in  that  place, 
and  alfo  in  p.  437,  438,  439,  440.  If  thefe  things 
arc  fo,  it  will  certainly  follow,  that  the  fir  ft  choofing 
to  be  righteous  is  no  righteous  choice ;  there  is  no 
righteoufnefs  or  holinefs  in  it  ;  becaufe  no  choofing 
to  be  righteous  goes  before  it.  For  he  plainly  fpeaks 
of  choofing  to  be  righteous^  as  what  7mfl  go  before 
righteoujnefs :  and  that  which  follows  the  choice,  be- 
in'^  the  etFeCt  of  the  choice,  cannot  be  righteoufnefs 


*  Scrip.  Doc.  of  Original  Si?!^  p.  180,  30!  Edit. 


Scd.  I.     in  the  Nat.  o/VoIil,  not  in  the  Caufe.  255 

or  holinefs :  for  an  efFe6l  is  a  thing  neceflary,  and 
cannot  prevent  the  influence  or  efhcacy  of  its  Caufe  ; 
and  therefore  is  unavoidably  dependent  upon  the 
Caufe  :  and  he  fays,  a  neccjfary  holinefs  is  no  holinefs. 
So  that  neither  can  a  choice  of  righteoufnefs  be  right- 
eoufnefs  or  holinefs,  nor  can  any  thing  that  is  con- 
fequent  on  that  choice,  and  the  efrc6t  of  it,  be  right- 
eoufnefs or  holinefs  ;  nor  can  any  thing  that  is  with- 
out choice,  be  righteoufnefs  or  holinefs.  So  that 
by  his  fcheme,  all  righteoufnefs  and  holinefs  is  at 
once  fhut  out  of  the  world,  and  no  door  left  open, 
by  which  it  can  ever  poflibly  enter  into  the  world. 

I  fuppofe,  the  way  that  men  came  to  entertain  this 
;ibfurd  inconfiilent  notion,  with  refpeOt  to  internal 
inclinations  and  volitions  themfelves,  (or  notions  that 
imply  it.)  viz.  that  the  Elfence  of  their  moral  good 
or  evil  lies  not  in  their  Nature,  but  their  Caufe; 
was,  that  it  is  indeed  a  very  plain  didate  of  common 
fenfe,  that  it  is  fo  with  refpedl  to  all  outward  anions, 
and  fenGble  motions  of  the  body;  that  the  moral 
good  or  evil  of  them  does  not  lie  at  all  in  the  mo- 
tions themfelves  ;  v/hich,  taken  hy  themfelves,  are 
nothing  of  a  moral  Nature ;  and  the  Efifence  of  all 
the  moral  good  or  evil  that  concerns  them,  lies  in 
thofe  internal  difpolitions  and  volitions,  which  are 
the  Caufe  of  them.  Now,  being  always  ufed  to  de- 
termine this,  v/ithout  hefitation  or  difpute,  concern- 
ing external  Anions;  which  are  the  things,  that  in 
the  common  ufe  of  language  are  (ignified  by  fuch 
phrafes,  as  men's  adions,  or  their  doings ;  hence,  when 
they  come  to  fpeak  of  volitions,  and  internal  exercifes 
of  their  inclinations,  under  the  fame  denomina- 
tion of  their  aUions^  or  what  they  do,  they  unwarily 
determined  the  cafe  mull  alfo  be  the  lame  with  thefe, 
as  with  external  aUions  ;  not  confidering  the  vaft  dif- 
ference in  the  Nature  of  the  cafe. 

If  any  (hall  flill  obje6l  and  f;iy,  why  is  it  not  nc- 


256        The  Eflenoe  of  Virtue  and  Vice,  (^c.   Part  I V* 

cefTary  that  the  Caufe  fhould  be  confidered,  in  order 
to  determine  whether  any  thing  be  worthy  of  blame 
or  praife  ?  Is  it  agreeable  to  reafon  and  common 
lenfe^  that  a  man  is  to  be  praifedor  blamed  for  that, 
which  he  is  not  the  Caufe  or  author  of,  and  has  no 
hand  in  ? 

I  anfwer,  fuch  phrafes  as  being  the  Caufe,  being  the 
author,  having  a  hand,  and  the  like,  are  ambiguous. 
They  are  moil  vulgarly  underftood  for  being  the  de- 
figning  voluntary  Caufe,  or  Caufe  by  antecedent 
choice  :  and  it  is  moft  certain,  that  men  are  not,  in 
this  fenfe,  the  Caufes  or  authors  of  the  firft  a6l  of 
their  Wills,  in  any  cafe  ;  as  certain  as  any  thing  is, 
or  ever  can  be  ;  for  nothing  can  be  more  certain, 
than  that  a  thing  is  not  before  it  is,  nor  a  thing  of 
the  fame  kind  before  the  firft  thing  of  that  kind  ;  and 
fo  no  choice  before  the  firft  choice.  As  the  phrafe, 
being  the  author,  may  be  underftood  not  of  being  the 
producer  by  an  antecedent  a6l  of  Will  ;  but  as  a 
perfon  may  be  faid  to  be  the  author  of  the  a61;  of 
Will  itfelf,  by  his  being  the  immediate  agent,  or  the 
being  that  is  aciing,  or  in  exercife  in  that  a6l ;  if  the 
phrafe  of  being  the  author,  is  ufed  to  fignify  this,  then 
doubtlefs  common  fenfe  requires  men's  being  the 
authors  of  their  own  a61s  of  Will,  in  order  to  their 
being  efteemed  worthy  of  praife  or  difpraife,  on  ac- 
count of  them.  And  common  fenfe  teaches,  that 
they  muft  be  the  authors  of  external  adJions,  in  the 
former  fenfe,  namely,  their  being  the  Caufes  of  them 
by  an  a6l  of  Will  or  choice,  in  order  to  their  being 
juftly  blamed  or  praifed  :  but  it  teaches  no  fuch 
thing  with  refpeft  to  the  a6ls  of  the  Will  themfelves. 
But  this  may  appear  more  manifeft  by  the  things, 
which  will  be  obferved  in  the  folio  win «'  fedlion. 


Se^l.  II.    The  Ar.Tiinian  Notion  of  KEi'von,  &c.       257 


Section      II. 

The  Falfenef\  and  Inconfvjlznce.  of  that  mdaphyfical  No- 
linn  of  AcX'iou  and  Ai'^ency,  which  feems  t'j  be  gener- 
ally entertained  by  the  Defenders  of  the  ArminiAn  Doc^ 
trine  concerning  Liberty^  moral  Agency,  Sec. 

vJn  e  thing  that  is  made  very  much  a  ground  of  ar- 
gument and  fuppofed  deinonliration  by  Arminians, 
in  defence  of  the  forementioned  principles,  concern- 
iuy  moral  A;iency,  virtue,  vice,  Sec.  is  their  meta- 
phyfical  notion  of  Agency  and  Atlion.  They  fay, 
unlefs  the  foul  has  a  felf-determlnin^  power,  it  has 
no  power  of  Action  ;  if  its  volitions  be  not  caufed  by 
itfelf,  but  are  excited  and  determined  by  fome  ex- 
trinfic  caufe,  they  cannot  be  the  foul's  own  aFkS  ; 
and  that  the  foul  cannot  be  active,  but  mufh  be 
wholly  pajfive,  in  thofe  efFotls  which  it  is  the  fubje6t 
of  necelfanly,  and  not  froui  its  own  free  determi- 
nation. 

Mr.  Chubb  lav^  the  foundation  of  his  fcheme  of 
liberty,  and  of  his  arguments  to  fupport  it,  very 
mucli  in  this  pofiiion,  that  man  is  an  Agent,  and  capa- 
ble 0/  ABion.  Which  doubtlefs  is  true  :  but  felfde- 
tcrminai.ion  belongs  to  his  notion  of  ABion,  and  is  the 
very  elfence  of  it.  Whence  he  infers,  that  it  is  im- 
polhble  for  a  man  to  a6l  and  be  acted  upon,  in  the 
fame  thing,  at  the  fame  time  :  and  that  nothing,  that 
is  an  Action,  can  be  the  effect  of  the  Attion  of 
another  :'  and  he  infiR.s,  that  a  neceffary  Agenty  or  au 
A>;ent  that  is  neceiTarily  determined  to  act,  is  d  plain 
contradiction. 

Ij'At  thofe  are  a  precarious  fort  of  demonPcrations, 
which  men  build  on  the  meaning  that  they  arbitra- 
rily aiTix.  to  a  word  ;   cfpecially  whca  that  nieanini| 

L2 


258  The  Arminiaii  Notion  o/'A6llon,     Part  IV, 

is   abdrufe,   inconfiHent-,   and  entirely  diverfe  from 
the  original  fenfe  of  the  word  in  confimon  fpeech. 

That  the  meaning  of  the  word  A^ion,  as  Mr. 
Chubb  and  many  others  ufe  it,  is  utterly  unintelli- 
gible and  inconlillent,  is  manifefl,  becaufe  it  belongs 
to  their  notion  of  an  A6lion,  that  it  is  Ibmething 
wherein  is  no  palnon  or  paffivencfs  ;  that  is  (accord- 
ing to  their  fcnfe  of  pafliveners)  it  is  under  the  pow- 
er, influence  or  a61ion  of  no  caufe.  And  this  im- 
plies, that  A6lion  has  no  caufe,  and  is  no  eiFe6l  ; 
for  to  be  an  efFe6i  implies  pajfivenefs,  or  the  being 
fubjetl:  to  the  power  and  Adion  of  its  caufe.  And 
yet  they  hold,  that  the  mind's  Atlion  is  the  eflFe^t  of 
its  own  determination,  yea,  the  mind's  free  and  vol- 
untary determination  ;  which  is  the  fame  with  free 
choice.  So  that  A6lion  is  the  eiFe6"t  of  fomething 
preceding,  even  a  preceding  a6l  of  choice  :  and  con- 
fequentJy,  in  this  efFe6l  the  mind  is  paffive,  fubjedl: 
to  the  power  and  A6lion  of  the  preceding  caufe, 
which  is  the  foregoing  choice,  and  therefore  cannot 
be  adive.  So  that  here  we  have  this  contradi61ion, 
that  A6lion  is  always  the  etFed  of  foregoing  choice  ; 
•  and  therefore  cannot  be  A6lion  ;  becaufe  it  is  paf^ 
five  to  the  power  of  that  preceding  caufal  choice  ; 
and  the  mind  cannot  be  adive  and  paffive  in  the 
fame  thing,  at  the  fame  time.  Again,  they  fay,  ne- 
cefficy  is  utterly  inconfiflent  with  Adion,  and  a  ne- 
cefiTary  Adion  is  a  contradi6iion  ;  and  fo  their  no- 
tion of  Adion  implied  contingence,  and  excludes  all 
necefliiy.  And  therefore,  their  notion  of  Adion 
implies,  thit  it  has  no  necelfaiy  dependence  or  con- 
nexion with  any  thing  foregoing  ;  for  fuch  a  de- 
pendence or  connexion  excludes  contingence,  and 
impHes  ncceffity.  And  yet  their  noiion  of  Adion 
implies  neccffity,  and  fuppofes  that  it  is  ncceffary, 
and  cannot  be  comingcnr.  For  they  fnppofe,  that 
whatever  is  properly  called  Atlion,   mull  be  deter- 


Sc6l.  II.  faljc  and  incojifijIaiL  259 

mined  by  the  Will  and  free  choice  ;  and  this  is  as 
much  as  to  fay,  that  it  muft  be  neccffary,  being 
dependent  upon,  and  determined  by  fomething  fore- 
going ;  namely,  a  foregoing  a6l  of  choice.  Again, 
it  belongs  to  their  notion  of  Aftion,  of  that  which 
is  a  proper  and  meie  a6f,  that  it  is  the  beginning  of 
motion,  or  of  exertion  of  power;  but  yet  it  is  im- 
plied in  their  notion  of  A6iion,  that  it  is  not  the 
beginning  of  motion  or  exertion  of  power,  but  is 
confequent  and  dependent  on  a  preceding  exertion 
of  power,  viz.  the  power  of  Will  and  choice  :  for 
they  fay  there  is  no  proper  A6lion  but  what  is 
freely  chofen  ;  or,  which  is  the  fame  thing,  deter- 
mined by  a  foregoing  a6l  of  free  choice.  But  if 
any  of  them  fliall  fee  caufe  to  deny  this,  and  fay 
they  hold  no  fuch  thing  as  that  every  Atlion  is  chof- 
en or  determined  by  a  foregoing  choice;  but  that 
the  very  firft  exertion  of  Will  only,  undetermined 
by  any  preceding  atl,  is  properly  called  A6lion  ; 
then  1  fay,  fuch  a  man's  notion  of  Adlion  implies 
neceffity  ;  for  what  the  niind  is  the  fubje6i:  of,  v/ith- 
out  the  determination  of  its  own  previous  choice,  it 
is  the  fubjedl;  of  neceffarily,  as  to  any  hand,  that 
free  choice  has  in  the  affair,  and,  without  any  abili- 
ty, the  mind  has  to  prevent  it,  by  any  Will  or  elec- 
tion of  its  own  ;  becaufe  by  the  fuppofition  it  pre- 
cludes all  previous  a6ls  of  the  VVill  or  choice  in  the 
cale,  which  might  prevent  it.  So  that  it  is  again, 
in  this  other  way,  implied  in  their  notion  of  a6t, 
that  it  is  both  necelTary  and  not  neceffary.  Again, 
it  belongs  to  their  notion  of  an  a^,  that  it  is  no  ef- 
fect of  a  pre-determining  bias  or  preponderation, 
but  fprings  immediately  cut  of  indifference  ;  and 
this  implies,  (hat  it  cannot  be  from  foregoing  choice, 
which  is  foregoing  preponderation  :  if  it  be  not  ha- 
bitual, but  accafional,  yet  it  it  caufes  the  a6l,  it  is 
truly  previous,  efficacious  and  determining.  And 
yet,   at  the  fame  time,  it  is  effential   to  their  notion 


2 Go  TJie  Arminlan  Notion  of  ACl'ion,     Part  IV. 

of  the  at^,  that  it  is  what  the  agent  is  the  author  of 
freely  and  voluntarily,  and  that  is,  by  previous 
choice  and  defign. 

So  that,  according  to  their  notion  of  f!ie  aQ,  con- 
fidered  with  regard  to  its  confequence^,  thefe  fo!- 
) owing  things  are  all  efl'ential  to  it,  viz.  That  it 
Ihould  be  neceffary,  and  not  neceffary  ;  that  it  fliould 
be  from  a  caufe,  and  no  caufe  ;  that  it;  fhould  be 
the  fruit  of  choice  and  defign,  and  not  the  fruit  of 
choice  and  defign  ;  that  it  fiiould  be  the  beginning 
of  motion  or  exertion,  and  yet  confequent  on  pre- 
vious exertion  ;  that  it  ihould  be  before  it  is  ;  that 
it  fhould  fpring  immediately  out  of  indilference  and 
equilibrium,  and  yet  be  the  eMeQ  of  prepondera- 
tiun  ;  that  it  (hoald  be  felf-originated,  and  alfo  have 
its  original  from  fomething  elle  ;  that  it  is  what  the 
tnind  caufes  itfelf,  of  its  own  Will,  and  can  produce 
or  prevent,  according  to  its  choice  or  pleafure,  and 
yet  what  the  mmd  has  no  power  to  prevent,  preclud- 
ing all  previous  choice  in  the  affair. 

,So  that  an  aft,  according  to  their  metaphyfical 
notion  of  it,  is  fomeihing  of  which  there  is  no  idea  : 
-it  is  nothing  but  a  confufion  of  the  mind,  excited 
hv  words  without  any  diQin6t  meaning,  and  is  an 
abfolute  non-entity  ;  and  that  in  two  rcfpe6Ks  :  (i.) 
There  is  nothing  jin  the  world  that  ever  was,  is,  or 
ran  be,  to  anfwer  the  things  which  mud  belong  to 
its  defcription,  according  to  what  they  fuppofe  to  be 
elfential  to  it.  And  (2.)  There  neither  13,  nor  ever 
wa5,  nor  can  be,  any  notion  or  idea  to  anfwer  the 
word,  as  they  ufe  and  explain  ir.  For  if  we  fliould 
fuppofe  any  fuch  notion,  it  would  many  ways  del- 
troy  itfelf.  But  it  is  impoffible  any  idea  or  notion 
ihould  fubfifl  in  the  mind,  whole  very  nature  and 
elfence,  which  conflitutes  it,  dedroys  it.  If  fome 
learned  philofopher,  who  had  been  abroad,  in  giving 
an  account  of  the  curious  obfcrvaiions  he  had  made 


SeQ,  II.  Jdlfc  end  incciifjlcnt.  261 

in  his  travels,  fiiould  fay,  "  He  bad  been  in  Terra 
*'  del  Fiiego,  and  there  had  feen  an  animal,  which  he 
*'  calls  by  a  certain  name,  that,  begat  and  bronght. 
*'  forth  itfelf,  and  yet  had  a  lire  and  dam  diftinft 
**  from  itl'elt ;  that  it  had  an  appetite,  and  was  hun- 
*'  gry  before  it  had  a  being  ;  that  his  mafler,  who 
*'  led  him,  and  governed  him  at  his  pleafure,  was 
**  always  governed  by  him,  and  driven  by  him  where 
*'  he  pleated  ;  that  when  he  moved,  he  always  took 
*'  a  flep  before  the  firll  flep  ;  that  he  went  with  his 
*•  head  firll,  and  yet  always  went  tail  foremoft  ;  and 
*'  this,  though  he  had  neither  head  nor  tail  :"  it 
would  be  no  impudence  at  all,  to  tell  fuch  a  travel- 
ler, though  a  learned  man,  that  he  himfelf  had  no 
notion  or  idea  of  fuch  an  animal,  as  he  gave  an  ac- 
count of,  and  never  had,  nor  ever  would  have. 

As  the  forementioned  notion  of  A6Hon  is  very  in- 
confiflent,  fo  it  is  wholly  diverfe  from  the  original 
meaning  of  the  word.  The  more  ufual  hgnification 
of  it,  in  vulgar  fpeech,  fcems  to  be  fome  motion,  or 
exercife  cj  poxver,  that  is  voluntary,  or  that  is  the  effeH 
of  the  Will  ;  and  is  ufed  in  the  fame  fenfe  as  doing  : 
and  moll  commonly  it  is  ufed  to  fignify  outward  Ac- 
tions. So  thinking  is  often  diftinguifhed  from  a^ing  ; 
and  defuring  and  willing,  from  doing. 

]^Qiidts  this  more  ufual  and  proper  fignification 
of  the  word  ABion,  there  are  other  ways  in  which  the 
word  is  ufed,  that  are  lefs  proper,  which  yet  have 
place  in  common  fpeech.  Oftentimes  it  is  ufed  to 
fjgnify  fome  motion  or  alteration  in  inanimate  things, 
with  relation  to  fome  obje6l  and  eflFe6l.  So  the 
Ipring  of  a  watch  is  faid  to  a&  upon  the  chain  and 
wheels ;  the  fun  beams,  to  a£l  upon  plants  and  trees  ; 
and  the  fire,  to  a6l  upon  wood.  Sometimes  the 
word  is  ufed  to  fignify  motions,  alterations,  and  ex- 
ertion of  power,  which  are  feen  in  corporeal  things, 
conjidered  abfolutely  ;  efpecially  when  thefe  motions 


262  The  Arminlan  Notion  of  A6lion,     Part  IV. 

feem  to  arife  from  Um\c  internal  caufe  which  is  JiicU 
den  ;  fo  that  they  have  a  greater  rcfemblance  of  thofe 
inotions  of  our  bodies,  which  are  the  efFeds  of  natur- 
al volition,  or  invifiblc  exertions  of  Will.  So  the 
fermentation  of  liquor,  the  operations  of  the  load- 
llone,  and  of  ele6trical  bodies,  are  called  the  Aclicn 
of  thefe  things.  And  {ometirnes  the  word  ABion  is 
ufed  to  fignify  the  exercife  of  thought,  or  of  Will 
and  inclination  :  fo  meditating,  loving,  haling,  in- 
clining, difmclining,  choeiing  and  refoling,  may  be 
fometimes  called  acting  :  though  more  rarely  (un- 
lefs  it  be  by  philofophers  and  metaphyficians)  than 
in  any  of  the  other  fenfes. 

But  the  word  is  never  ufed  in  vulgar  fpeech  in 
that  fenfe  which  Arminian  divines  ufe  it  in.  name- 
ly, for  the  felf-determinate  exercife  of  the  Will,  or 
an  exertion  of  the  foul  that  ariles  without  any  necef- 
fary  connexion,  with  any  thing  foregoing.  If  a  man 
does  fomething  voluntarily,  or  as  the  efFe£l  of  his 
choice,  then  in  the  mod  proper  fenfe,  and  as  the 
word  is  mofi:  originally  and  comm.only  ufed,  he  is 
faid  to  acl :  but  whether  that  choice  or  volition  be 
"felf.determined,  or  no,  whether  it  be  conne£led  with 
fore^oinrr  habitual  bias,  whether  it  be  the  certain  ef- 
fe6l  of  the  flrongeil  mo(ive,  or  fome  intrinfic  caufe, 
never  comes  into  confideration  in  the  meaning  of 
the  word. 

And  if  the  word  ABion  is  arbitrarily  ufed  by  fome 
men  otherwife,  to  fuit  fome  fcheme'of  metaphyfic  or 
morality,  no  argument  can  reafonably  be  founded 
on  fuch  a  ufe  of  this  term,  to  prove  any  thing  but 
their  own  pleafure.  For  divines  and  philofophers 
flrenuoufly  to  urge  fuch  arguments,  as  though  they 
were  fuihcient  to  fupport  and  dcmonftrate  a  whole 
fcheme  of  moral  philolophy  and  divinity,  is  certainly 
to  ereft  a  mighty  edifice  on  the  fand,  or  rather  on  a 
ihadow.     And  though  it  may  nou'  perhaps,  through 


Sc6l.  IT.  falft  and  inconfiJlenL  263 

cuftom,  have  become  natural  for  tliem  to  ufe  the 
word  in  this  fenfe  (if  that  may  be  called  a  fenfe  or 
meaning,  which  is  inconfiftent  with  itfelf)  yet  this 
does  not  prove,  that  it  is  agreeable  to  the  natural 
notions  men  have  of  things,  or  that  there  can  beany 
thing  in  the  creation  that  Ihould  anfwer  fuch  a  mean- 
ing. And  though  they  appeal  to  experience,  yet  the 
truth  is,  that  men  are  fo  far  from  experiencing  any 
fuch  thing,  that  it  is  impo(fibIe  for  them  to  have  any 
conception  of  it. 

If  it  fhould  be  objeQcd,  that  ABion  and  Paffioii 
are  doubtlefs  words  of  a  contrary  fignitjcation  ;  but 
to  fuppofe  that  the  agent,  in  its  Action,  is  under 
the  power  and  influence  of  fomething  intrinfic,  is  to 
confound  Adion  and  paffion,  and  make  them  the 
fame  thing. 

1  an  fiver,  that  A6lion  and  pafTion  are  doubtlefs',  as 
they  are  fometimes  ufed.  words  of  oppofite  fignifica- 
tion  ;  but  not  as  fignifying  ory^o^ilc. exiflences,  but 
only  oppofite  relalions.  The  words  ccdijc  and  eJfeB, 
are  terms  of  oppofite  figniiication  ;  but,  nevcrthelefs, 
if  I  aifett,  that  the  fame  thing  may,  at  the  fame  time, 
in  different  refpeds  and  relations,  be  both  caufi  and 
effeFi^  this  will  not  prove  that  I  confound  the  terms. 
The  foul  may  be  both  aBive  and  pajfroe  in  the  fame 
thing  in  different  refpe6ls ;  active  with  relation  toons 
thing,  and  pajfive  with  reladon  to  ano;her.  The 
word  pajfion,  when  fct  in  oppofition  to  Aclion,  or 
rather  ABivenefs,  is  merely  a  relative;  it  fignifies  no 
effeft  or  caufe.  nor  any  proper  exiftcnce;  but  is  the 
fame  with  pajfivcnefs^  or  a  being  pa  (live,  or  a  being 
aded  upon  by  fome  thing.  Wluch  is  a  mere  rela- 
tion of  a  thing  to  fome  power  or  force  exerted  hy 
iome  caufe,  producing  fome  efFccl  in  it,  or  upon  it. 
And  AUion,  when  fct  properly  in  oppofition  to  paf^ 
fioriy  or  pa ffivtnefs,  is  no  real  exiflence  ;  it  is  not  the 
iame  wiih  AN  A5iivn,    but  is  a  mere  relation  :   it  is 


264  How  this  Arminian  Notion         Part  IV. 

the  aclivenefs  of  forcething  on  another  thing,  being 
the  oppofire  relation  to  the  otlier,  viz,  a  relation  of 
power,  or  force,  exerted  by  lorne  caufe,  towards 
another  ihing,  which  is  the  fubjed  of  the  efFe6l  of 
ihat  power.  Indeed,  the  word  A6lion  is  frequently 
ufed  to  iignify  iomething  not  merely  relative,  hue 
more  abjolute,  and  a  real  exiRence  ;  as  when  we  fay 
an  Action  ;  when  the  word  is  not  ufed  tranGtively, 
but  abfolutely,  for  fome  motion  or  exercife  of  body 
or  mind,  without  any  relation  to  any  obje6^  or  elFect : 
and  as  ufed  thus,  it  is  not  properly  the  oppofite  of 
pajfion  ;  which  ordinarily  fignifies  nothing  abfolute, 
but  merely  the  relation  of  being  acted  upon.  And 
therefore,  if  the  word  Aciion  be  uled  in  the  like  rela- 
tive fenfe,  then  A6lion  and  pafTion  are  only  two  con- 
trary relations.  And  it  is  no  abfurdity  to  fuppofe, 
that  contrary  relations  may  belong  to  the  fame  thing, 
at  the  fame  time,  with  refpe6l  to  dilTerent  things. 
So  to  (uppofe,  that  there  are  ads  of  the  foul  by 
which  a  man  voluntarily  moves,  and  a£ls  upon  ob- 
je6ls.  and  produces  effc^ds,  which  yet  themfelves  are 
effe6ls  of  fomething  elfe,  and  wherein  the  foul  itfelf 
is  the  object  of  fomething  ading  upon,  and  influ- 
encing that,  do  not  at  all  confound  A61ion  and  paf- 
lion.  The  words  may  neverthelefs  be  properly  of 
oppofite  fignification  :  there  may  be  as  true  and  real 
a  difl'orence  between  adm^  and  being  cavjed  to  act, 
though  we  fhould  fuppofe  the  foul  to  be  both  in  the 
iame  volition,  as  there  is  between  living  and  being 
quickened,  or  made  to  live.  It  is  no  more  a  contradic- 
tion to  fuppofe  that  Adion  may  be  the  efFe6l  of 
iome  other  caufe,  befidcs  the  agent,  or  being  that 
a6ls,  than  to  fuppofe,  that  life  may  be  the  cfFe«5i:  ot 
lomc  other  caufe,  befidcs  the  liver,  or  the  being 
that  lives,  in  whom  life  is  caufed  to  be. 

The  thing  which  has  led  men  into  this  inconfifl- 
cn:  no:ion  of  Adion,   when  applied  to  volition,  as 


Sc^.  II.  probably  amfc,  265 

though  it  were  efTential  to  this  internal  A£lion,  that 
the  agent  fhould  be  felf-determined  in  it,  and  that 
the  Will  fhould  be  the  caufe  of  it,  was  probably  this  ; 
that  according  to  the  fenfe  of  mankind;  and  the  com- 
mon ufe  of  language,  it  is  lo  with  relpefl  to  men's 
external  actions  ^  which  are  what  originally,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  vulgar  ufe  and  moft  proper  fenfe  of 
the  word,  called  Anions.  Men  in  thefe  are  felf- 
direded,  felf-determined,  and  their  Wills  are  the 
caufe  of  the  motions  of  their  bodies,  and  the  exter- 
nal things  that  are  done  ;  fo  that  unlefs  men  do 
them  voluntarily,  and  of  choice,  and  the  Adion  be 
determined  by  their  antecedent  volition,  it  is  no  Ac- 
tion or  doing  of  theirs.  Hence  fome  metaphyfi- 
cians  have  been  led  unwarily,  but  exceeding  abfurdly, 
to  fuppofe  the  fame  concerning  volition  itfelf,  that 
that  alfo  mufl  be  determined  by  the  Will  ;  which  is 
to  be  determined  by  antecedent  volition,  as  the  mo- 
tion of  the  body  is ;  not  confidering  the  contradic- 
tion it  implies. 

But  it  is  very  evident,  that  in  the  mctaphyfical  dif- 
tin6lion  between  A6lion  and  pallion,  (chough  long 
fince  become  common  and  the  general  vogue)  due 
care  has  not  been  taken  to  conform  language  to  ths 
nature  of  things,  or  to  any  diilin6t  clear  ideas.  As 
it  is  in  innumerable  otlier  philofophical,  metaphif- 
ical  terms,  ufed  in  thefe  difputes  ;  which  has  occa- 
fioned  inexprefiible  difficulty,  contention,  error  and 
confufion. 

And  thus  probably  it  came  to  be  thought,  that 
neceflTity  was  inconfiftent  with  A6tion,  as  thefe  terms 
are  applied  to  volition.  Firft,  thefe  terms  ABion 
and  NeceJJity^  are  changed  from  their  original  mean- 
ing, as  lignifying  external  voluntary  AQion  and 
couflraint,  (in  which  meaning  they  are  evidently  in- 
confillent)  to  fignify  quite  other  things,  viz.  volitioa 
itfelf,   and   certainty  of  exiitence.     And  when  the 

M2 


2  66  Why  Calvlnifm  is  fappojed  Part  IV. 

change  of  fignification  is  made,  care  is  not  taken  to 
make  proper  allowances  and  abatements  for  the  dif- 
ference of  fenfe  ;  but  (lill  the  fame  things  are  unwa- 
rily attributed  to  ABion  and  Ntcejfit)\  in  the  new- 
meaning  of  the  woids,  which  plainly  belonged  to 
them  in  their  hrft  fcrife  ;  and  on  this  ground,  max- 
ims are  ellabliQied  without  any  real  foundation,  as 
though  they  were  the  moft  certain  truths,  and  the 
moli  evident  dictates  cf  reafon. 

But  however  ftrenuouily  it  is  maintained,  that 
what  is  necelTary  cannot  be  properly  called  A6lion, 
and  that  a  neceiiary  Attion  is  a  contradiQion,  yet  it 
is  probable  there  are  i&w  Arminian  divines^  who,  if 
thoroughly  tried,  would  ftand  to  thefe  principles. 
They  will  allow,  that, God  is,  in  the  higheft  fenfe, 
an  adive  Being,  and  the  higheft  Fountain  of  Life 
and  A6lion  ;  and  they  would  not  probably  deny, 
that  thole,  that  arc  called  God's  acls  of  righteoufnefs, 
holincts  and  faithfulncfs,  are  truly  and  properly 
God's  aBs,  and  God  is  really  a  holy*^^^?2^  in  them  ; 
and  yet,  I  trufl:,  they  will  not  deny,  that  God  necef- 
farily  a6ls  juftly  and  faithfully,  and  that  it  is  impof- 
dble  for  Him  to  a6i  unrighteoufly  and  uhholily. 


E    c    T    I    o    N 


III. 


The  Reafons  ivhy  fvne  think  it  contrary  to  common 
Scnie,  to  fuppofe  thofe  Things  which  arc  neceHsivy,  to 
be  worthy  of  either  Praile  or  Blame. 

It  is  abundantly  affirmed  and  urged  by  Arminian 
writers,  that  it  is  contrary  to  common  Senfe,  and  the 
natural  notions  and  apprcnhenlions  of  mankind,  to 
fuppofe  oiherwifc  than  that  neceffity  (making  no  dif- 
tinftion  between  natural  and  moral  neccifuy)  is  in- 


Seel.  III.       contrary  to  common  Senfe.  267 

confiftent  with  Virtue  and  Vice,  Praife  and  Blame, 
Reward  and  Punifliment.  And  their  arguments 
from  hence  have  been  greatly  triumphed  in  ;  and 
have  been  not  a  little  perplexing  to  many,  who  have 
been  friendly  to  the  truth,  as  clearly  revealed  in  the 
holy  Scriptures  :  it  has  feemed  to  them  indeed  dif- 
ficult, to  reconcile  Calviniflic  doQrines  with  the  no- 
tions men  commonly  have  of  juftice  and  equity. 
And  the  true  reafons  of  it  ieem  to  be  thefe  that  fol- 
low. 

I.  It  is  indeed  a  very  plain  dilate  of  common 
Senfe,  that  natural  neceflity  is  wholly  inconfiflent 
with  juft  Praife  or  Blame.  If  men  do  things  which 
in  themfelves  are  very  good,  fit  to  be  brought  to  pafs, 
and  very  happy  effetls,  properly  again fl  their  Wills, 
and  cannot  help  it ;  oj  do  them  fr.)m  a  ueceflity  that; 
is  without  their  Wills,  or  with  which  their  Wills 
have  no  concern  or  connexion  ;  then  it  is  a  plain 
diftate  of  common  Senfe,  that  i,t  is  none  of  their  vir- 
tue, nor  any  moral  good  in  them  ;  and  that  they  are 
not  worthy  to  be  rewarded  or  praifed  ;  or  at  ail  ef- 
teemed,  honored  or  loved  on  that  account.  And, 
on  the  othfer  hand,  that  if,  from  like  neceflity,  they 
do  thofe  things  which  in  themfelves  are  very  unhap- 
py and  pernicious,  and  do  them  becaufe  they  can- 
not help  it ;  the  neceffity  is  fuch,  that  it  is  all  one 
whether  they  Will  them,  or  no;  and  the  reafon  why 
they  are  done,  is  from  neceflity  only,  and  not  from 
their  Wills  ;  it  is  a  very  plain  dictate  of  common 
Senfe,  that  they  are  not  at  all  to  blame;  there  is  no 
vice,  fault,  or  moral  evil  at  all  in  the  effed  done  ; 
nor  are  they,  who  are  thus  ncceffitated,  in  any  wife 
v/orthy  to  be  punifhed,  hated,  or  in  the  lead  difre- 
fpe6led,   on  that  account. 

In  like  manner,  if  things,  in  themfelves  good  and 
defirable,  are  abfolutely  impoffibie,  with  a  natural 
impoffibility,  the  univerlal  reafon  of  mankind  teaches. 


268  Why  Calvinifm  isfuppofed         Part  IV. 

that  this  wholly  and  ptrfcBly  excufes  perfons  in  their 
not  doing  them. 

And  it  is  aUo  a  plain  dictate  of  common  Senfe, 
that  if  the  doing  things,  in  themfelves  good,  or  avoid- 
ing things,  in  themfelves  evil,  is  not  abfolutcly  impofm 
fible,  with  fuch  a  natural  impoffibility,  but  vQxy  dif" 
Jieult,  with  a  natural  difficulty  ;  that  is,  a  difficulty 
prior  to,  and  not  at  all  confiding  in  Will  and  incli- 
nation itfelf,  and  which  would  remain  the  fame,  let 
the  inclination  be  what  it  will ;  then  a  peifon's  neg- 
lecl  or  omiffinn  is  excufed  infome  meafure^  though  not 
wholly  ;  his  (in  is  lefs  aggravated,  than  if  the  thing 
to  be  done  were  eafy.  And  if  inflead  of  difficulty 
and  hinderance,  there  be  a  contrary  natural  propenfi- 
ty  in  '^he  ftate  of  things,  to  the  thing  to  be  done,  or 
the  efFe61;  to  be  brought  to  pafs,  abflrafted  from  any 
confideration  of  the  inclination  of  the  heart ;  though 
thepropenlity  be  not  fo  great  as  to  amount  to  a  natur- 
al neceffity  ;  yet  being  forae  approach  to  it,  fo  that 
the  doing  the  good  thing  be  very  much  from  this 
natural  tendency  in  the  Hate  of  things,  and  but  little 
from  a  good  inclination  ;  then  it  is  a  di6late  of  com- 
mon Senfe,  that  there  is  fo  much  the  lefs  virtue  in 
what  is  done  ;  and  fo  it  is  lefs  praife- worthy  and  re- 
wardable.  The  reafon  is  eafy,  viz.  beca'ufe  fuch  a 
natural  propenfity  or  tendency  is  an  approach  to 
natural  neceffity  ;  and  the  greater  the  propenfity, 
ftill  fo  much  the  nearer  is  the  approach  to  neceffity. 
And,  therefore,  as  natural  neceffity  takes  away  or 
fhuts  out  all  virtue,  fo  this  propenfity  approaches  to 
an  abolition  of  virtue  ;  that  is,  it  diminijhes  it.  And, 
on  the  other  hand,  natural  difficulty,  m  the  (late  of 
things,  is  an  approach  to  natural  impoffibility.  And 
as  the  latter,  when  it  is  complete  and  abfolute,  whol- 
ly takes  away  Blame  ;  fo  fuch  difficulty  takes  away 
fomc  Blame,  or  diminiffies  Blame;  and  makes  thq 
thing  dope  to  be  lefs  worthy  of  piinifhment. 


ScS.  III.       contrary  to  common  Senfe.  269 

II.  Men,  in  their  fiift  ufe  of  fuch  phrafes  as  thefe, 
mujl,  cant,  cant  help  it,  cant  avoid  it,  necejfary,  unable, 
impojfible,  unavoidable,  irrcfijlahle.  Sec,  u(e  them  to 
lignify  a  necefifity  of  conftraint  or  reftraint,  a  natur- 
al neceflity  or  impofTibility  ;  or  fome  neceffity  that 
the  Will  has  nothing  to  do  in  ;  which  may  be,  whe- 
ther men  will  or  no  ;  and  which  may  be  fuppofed 
to  be  juft  the  fame,  let  men's  inclinations  and  de- 
fires  be  what  they  will.  Such  kind  of  terms  in  their 
original  ufe,  I  fuppofe,  among  all  nations,  are  rela- 
tive ;  carrying  in  their  fignification  (as  was  before 
obferved)  a  reference  or  rerpe61;  to  fome  contrary- 
Will,  defire  or  endeavour,  which,  it  is  fuppofed,  is, 
or  may  be,  in  the  cafe.  All  men  find,  and  begin 
to  find  in  early  childhood,  that  there  are  innumera- 
ble things  that  cannot  be  done,  which  they  defire 
to  do ;  and  innumerable  things  which  they  are  averfe 
to,  that  mud  be,  they  cannot  avoid  them,  they  will 
be,  whether  they  choofe  them  or  no.  It  is  to  ex- 
prefs  this  neceflity,  which  men  fo  foon  and  fo  often 
find,  and  which  fo  greatly  and  early  afFe6ts  them 
in  innumerable  cafes,  that  fuch  terms  and  phrafes 
are  firft  formed  ;  and  it  is  to  fignify  iuch  a  neceflity, 
that  they  are  firfl;  ufed,  and  that  they  are  moft  con- 
Itantly  ufed,  in  the  common  affairs  of  life  ;  and  not 
to  fignify  any  fuch  metaphyfical,  fpeculative  and 
abflra6t  notion,  as  that  connexion  in  the  nature  or 
courfe  of  things,  which  is  between  the  fubjeit  and 
predicate  of  a  propofition,  and  which  is  the  foun- 
dation  of  the  certain  truth  of  that  propofition  ;  to 
fignify  which,  they  who  employ  themfelves  in  phi- 
lofophical  inquiries  into  the  firfl  origin  and  meta- 
phyfical relations  and  dependencies  of  things,  have 
borrowed  thefe  terms,  for  want  of  others.  But  we 
grow  up  from  our  cradles  in  a  ufe  of  fuch  terms 
and  phrafes  entirely  dilferent  from  this,  and  carry- 
ing 9  fenfe  exceeding  diverfe  from  that,  in  which 


270  Why  Calvinifin  isfappofed         ?art  IV. 

they  are  commonly  ufed'in  the  controverfy  between 
Arminians  and  Calvinijls.  And  it  being,  as  was  faid- 
before,  a  diftate  of  the  univerfal  fenfe  of  mankind, 
evident  to  us  as  foon  as  we  begin  to  think,  that  the 
neceflity  fignified  by  thefe  terms,  in  the  fenfe  in 
which  we  firfl  learn  them,  does  excufe  perfons  and 
free  them  from  all  Fault  or  Blame  ;  hence  our  ideas 
of  excufablenefs  or  faultinefs  is  tied  to  thefe  terms 
and  phrafes  by  a  ftrong  habit,  which  is  begun  in 
childhood,  as  foon  as  we  begin  to  fpeak,  and  grows 
up  with  us,  and  is  ftrengthened  by  conftant  ufe  and 
cuftom.  the  connexion  growing  ftronger  and'ftrongcr. 

The  habitual  connexion,  which  is  in  men's  minds 
between  Blameleifnefs  and  thofc  forementioned  terms, 
mvjl,  cannot,  unable,  ncccjfary,  impQjfihle,  unavoidable. 
See,  becomes  very  flrong  ;  becaufe,  as  foon  as  ever 
men  begin  to  ufe  reafon  and  fpeech,  they  have  oc- 
cafion  to  excufe  themfeives,  from  the  natural  necef- 
lity fignified  by  thefe  terms,  in  numerous  inflances. 
— /  cant  do  it — /  could  not  help  it. — And  all  man- 
kind have  conftant  and  daily  occafion  to  ufe  fuch 
phrafes  in  this  fenfe,  to  excufe  themfeives  and  olh- 
ers,  in  almofl  all  the  concerns  of  i'ife,  with  rcfpe6l 
to  difcippointments,  and  things  that  happen,  which 
concern  and  aflFedl  ourfclves  and  others,  that  are 
hurtful,  or  difagreeable  to  us  or  them,  or  things  defir- 
able,  that  we  or  others  fail  of. 

That  a  being  accuflomed  to  an  union  of  diflPerent 
ideas,  from  early  childhood,  makes  the  habitual  con- 
nexion exceeding  ftrong,  as  though  fuch  connexion 
were  owing  to  nature,  is  manifeft  in  innumerable  in- 
ftances.  It  is  altogether  by  fuch  an  habitual  con- 
nexion of  ide':*s,  that  men  judge  of  the  bignefs  or 
diftmce  of  the  objefts  of  fight,  from  their  appear- 
ance. Thus  it  is  owing  to  luch  a  connexion  early 
eftabliftied,  and  growing  up  with  a  pcrfon,  that  he 
judges  a  mountain,  which  he  fees  at  ten  miles  dif- 


Seft.  III.         cow/r^r); /o common  Senfe.  271 

tance,  to  be  bigger  than  his  nofe,  or  further  oft  than 
the  end  of  it.  Having  been  uied  fo  long  to  join  ^ 
conliderable  dillance  and  magnitude  with  fuch  an 
appearance,  men  imagine  it  is  by  a  didate  of  natur- 
al lenfe  :  whereas,  it  would  be  quite  otherwife  with 
one  that  had  his  eyes  newly  opened,  who  had  been 
born  blind  :  he  would  have  the  fame  vifible  ap- 
pearance, but  natural  fenfe  would  di6late  no  fuch 
thing,  concerning  the  magnitude  or  didance  of  whac 
appeared. 

III.  When  men,  after  they  had  been  fo  habitu- 
ated to  conne6l  ideas  of  Innocency  or  BlameleiTnefs 
with  fuch  terms,  that  the  union  feems  to  be  the  ef- 
fe6l  of  mere  nature,  come  to  hear  the  fame  terms 
ufed,  and  learn  to  ufe  them  themfelves  in  the  fore- 
mentioned  new  and  metaphyfical  fenfe,  to  fignify 
quite  another  fort  of  necellity,  which  has  no  luch 
kind  of  relation  to -a  contrary  fuppofable  Will  and 
endeavour  ;  the  notion  of  plain  and  manifeft  Blame- 
leiTnefs, by  this  means,  is,  by  a  ftrong  prejudice,  in- 
fenfibly  and  unwarily  transferred  to  a  cafe  to  which 
it  by  no  means  belongs :  the  change  of  the  ufe  of 
the  terms,  to  a  fignification  which  is  very  diverie, 
not  being  taken  notice  of,  or  adverted  to.  And  there 
are  feveral  reafons,  why  it  is  not. 

j.  The  terms,  as  ufed  by  philofophers,  are  not 
very  dillincl  and  clear  in  their  meaning  :  few  ufe 
them  in  a  fixed  determined  fenfe.  On  the  contrary, 
their  meaning  is  very  vague  and  confufed.  Which 
is  what  commonly  happens  to  the  words  ufed  to  (ig- 
nify  things  intclleclual  and  moral,  and  to  exprefs 
what  Mr.  Locke  calls  mix(  modes.  If  men  had  a 
clear  and  dillinQ  underftanding  of  what  is  intended 
by  thefe  metaphyhcal  terms,  they  would  be  able  more 
eafily  to  compare  them  with  their  original  and  com- 
mon Scnfe  ;  and  fo  would  not  be  fo  eafily  led  into 
delufion  by  no  fort  of  terms  in  the  world,  as  by 
words  of  this  iort. 


2J2  Why  Calvinifrn  isjuppofed  Part  IV. 

2.  The  change  of  the  fignification  of  the  terms  is 
the  more  infenfible,  becaufe  the  things  fignified, 
though  indeed  very  different,  yet  do  in  fome  generals 
agree.  In  neceffity^  that  which  is  vulgarly  fo  called, 
there  is  a  flrono  connexion  between  the  thins  faid  to 
be  neceffary,  and  fomething  antecedent  to  it,  in  the 
order  of  nature  ;  fo  there  is  alfo  in  philofophical  ne^ 
cejfity.  And  though  in  both  kinds  of  neceffity,  the 
connexion  cannot  be  called  by  that  name,  with  rela- 
tion to  an  oppofite  Will  or  endeavour,  to  which  it  is 
fuperior  ;  which  is  the  cafe  in  vulgar  neceffity  ;  yet 
in  both,  the  connexion  is  prior  to  Will  and  endea- 
vour, and  fo,  in  fome  rerpe6i:,  fuperior.  In  both 
kinds  of  neceffity,  there  is  a  foundation  for  fome  cer- 
tainty of  the  propofition,  that  affirms  the  event.  The 
terms  ufed  being  the  fame,  and  the  things  fignified 
agreeing  in  thefe  and  fome  other  general  circum- 
ftances,  and  the  expreffions  as  ufed  by  philofophers 
being  not  well  defined,  and  fo  of  obfcure  and  loofe 
fignihcation  ;  hence  perfons  are  not  aware  of  the 
great  difference  ;  had  the  notions  of  innocence  or 
fauhinefs,  which  were  fo  flrongly  affociated  with 
.them,  and  were  ftri6ily  united  in  their  minds,  ever 
fince  they  can  remember,  remain  united  with  them 
ftill,  as  if  the  union  were  altogether  natural  and 
neceffary  ;  and  they  that  go  about  to  make  a  fepa- 
ration,  feem  to  them  to  do  great  violence  even  to 
nature  itfelf. 

IV.  Another  reafon  why  it  appears  difficult  to 
reconcile  it  with  reafon,  that  men  ffiould  be  blamed 
for  that  which  is  neceffary  with  a  moral  neceffity 
(which,  as  was  obferved  before,  is  a  fpecies  of  phi- 
lofophical neceffity)  is,  that  for  want  of  due  coniid- 
eration,  men  inwardly  entertain  that  apprehenfion, 
that  this  neceffity  may  be  againfl  men's  W^ills  and 
fincere  endeavours.  They  go  away  with  that  notion, 
that  men  may  truly  will,  and  wifh  and  ftrive  that  it 


Se6l»  111.       contrary  to  Commoti  Senfe.  27J 

may  be  otherwife,  but  that  invincible  neceflity  (lands 
in  the  way;  And  many  think  thus  concerning  them- 
(clves  :  fome,  that  are  wicked  men,  think  they  \vi(h, 
that  they  were  good,  that  they  loved  God  and  holi- 
nefs  ;  but  yet  do  not  find  that  their  wifhes  produce 
the  efFed.— The  reafons  why  men  think,  are  as  fol- 
low :  (1.)  They  find  what  may  be  called  an  indirect 
willingnefs  to  have  a  better  Will,  in  the  manner  be- 
fore obferved.  For  it  is  impofTible,  and  a  contradic- 
tion to  fuppofe  the  Will  to  be  diredly  and  properly 
againfl  itfelf.  And  they  do  not  confider,  that  this 
indire6t  willingnels  is  entirely  a  different  thing  from 
properly  willing  the  thing  that  is  the  duty  and  virtue 
required  ]  and  that  there  is  no  virtue  in  that  fort  of 
willingnefs  which  ihey  have.  They  do  not  confider, 
that  the  volitions,  which  a  wicked  man  may  have 
that  he  loved  God,  are  no  a61s  of  the  Will  at  all 
againd  the  moral  evil  of  not  loving  God  ;  but  only 
fome  difagreeable  confequenccs.  But  the  making 
the  requifire  diftindion  requires  more  care  of  reflec- 
tion and  thought,  than  moll  men  are  ufedto.  And 
men,  through  a  prejudice  in  their  own  favour,  are 
difpofcd  to  think  well  of  their  own  defires  and  dif- 
pofitions,  and  to  account  them  good  and  virtuous, 
though  their  refpeQ  to  virtue  be  only  indireEl  and 
remote,  and  it  is  nothing  at  all  that  is  virtuous  that: 
truly  excites  or  terminates  their  inclinations.  (2.) 
Another  thing,  that  infenfibly  leads  and  beguiles 
men  into  a  luppofilion  that  this  moral  neceflity  or 
impoffibility  is,  or  may  be,  againfl:  men's  Wills  and 
true  endeavours,  is  the  derivation  arid  formation  of 
the  terms  themfelves,  that  are  often  ufed  to  expref^ 
it,  which  is  fuch  as  feems  diredly  to  point  to,  and 
holds  this  forth.  Such  words,  for  inflance,  as  una^ 
hie,  unavoidable,  impo[fihle,  irrefijlihle  ;  which  carry  a 
plain  reference  to  a  luppofable  power  exerted,  en- 
deavours ufed,  refinance  made,  in  oppofition  to  the 

Na 


274  Why  Cnhlni^m  is  fuppo/ed J  &c.      Part  IV. 

neceffity  :  and  the  perfons  that  hear  them,  not  con- 
fidering  nor  fufpcQing  but  that  they  are  ufed  in  their 
proper  fenfe  :  that  fenfe  being  therefore  underftood, 
there  does  naturally,  and  as  it  were  neceffarily,  arife 
in  their  minds  a  iuppofition,  that  it  may  be  fo  in- 
deed, that  true  defires  and  endeavours  may  take 
place,  but  that  invincible  neceffity  (lands  in  the  way, 
and  renders  them  vain  and  to  no  efFe6l. 

V.  Another  thing,  which  makes  perfons  more 
ready  to  fuppofe  it  to  be  contrary  to  reafon,  that 
men  ftiould  be  expofed  to  the  punifhments  threat- 
ened to  fin,  for  doing  thofe  things  which  are  moral- 
ly necelFary,  or  not  doing  thofe  things  morally  im- 
poflible,  is,  that  imagination  (Irengthens  the  argu- 
ment, and  adds  greatly  to  the  power  and  influence 
of  the  Teeming  reafons  againft  it,  from  the  greatnefs 
of  that  puniihment.  To  allow  that  they  may  be 
juftly  expofed  to  a  fmall  punifhment,  would  not  be 
ib  difficult.  Whereas,  if  there  were  any  good  rea- 
fon in  the  cafe,  if  it  were  truly  a  diftate  of  reafon, 
that  fuch  neceffity  was  inconfiflent  with  faultinefs, 
or  juft  puniffiment,  the  demonftration  would  be 
equally  certain  with  refpedl  to  a  fmall  puniihment, 
or  any  puniffiment  at  all,  as  a  very  great  one  :  but 
it  is  not  equally  eafy  to  the  imagination.  They  that 
argue  againft  the  juftice  of  damning  men  for  thofe 
things  that  are  thus  neceilary,  feem  to  make  their  ar- 
gument the  ftronger,  by  fetiing  forth  the  greatnefs  of 
the  puniffiment  in  ilrong  expreffions  : — That  a  man 
Jliould  be  caji  into  eternal  burnings^  that  hejhould  be 
made  to  fry  in  hell  to  all  eternity  for  thofe  things  which 
he  had  no  power  to  avoids  and  was  under  a  fatal ,  unfruf 
irahle,  invincible  necefjity  of  doing. 


St^.  IV.  Necejfary  Virliie,  Slc.  275 


Section     IV. 

Jt  is  agreeable  to  common  Senfe,  and  the  natural  No- 
tions of  Mankind,  to  fuppoje  moral  Ncceffity  to  be 
confijlent  with  Praife  and  Blame^  Ravard  and  Pun- 
ijhment. 

Whether  the  reafons  that  have  been  given,  why 
it  appears  difficult  to  Tome  peiTons,  to  reconcile  with 
common  Senfe  the  praifing  or  blaming,  rewarding 
or  punifhing  thofe  things  which  are  morally  necef- 
fary,  are  thought  fatisfa6lory  or  not  ;  yet  it  moft 
evidently  appears,  by  the  following  things,  that  if 
this  matter  be  rightly  underftood,  fetting  alide  all 
delufion  arifing  from  the  impropriety  and  ambigui- 
ty of  terms,  this  is  not  at  all  inconfiftent  with  the 
natural  apprchenfions  of  mankind,  and  that  fenfe 
of  things  which  is  found  every  where  in  the  com- 
mon people  ;  who  are  furtheft  from  having  their 
thoughts  perverted  from  their  natural  channel,  by 
metaphyfical  and  philofophical  fubtilties  ;  but,  on 
the  contrary,  altogether  agreeable  to,  and  the  very 
voice  and  di£tate  of,  this  natural  and  vulgar  Senfe. 

I.  This  will  appear,  if  we  confider  what  the  vul- 
gar Notion  of  hlame-worthinefs  is.  The  idea  which 
the  common  people,  through  all  ages  and  nations, 
have  of  faultinefs,  I  fuppofe  to  be  plainly  this  ;  a 
perfon's  being  or  doing  wrong,  with  his  own  will  and 
fleafure  ;  containing  thefe  two  things  :  1.  His  doing 
wrong ^  when  he  does  as  he  pkafes.  2.  His  pleafures  be- 
ing wrong.  Or,  in  other  words,  perhaps  more  in- 
telligibly expreffing  their  Notion  ;  a  perfons  having 
his  heart  wrong,  and  doing  wrong  from  his  heart.  And 
this  is  the  fum  total  of  the  matter. 

The  common  people  do  not  afcend  up  in  their 
reflexions    and    abftraftions    to   the    metaphyfical 


276  Nccfjfary  Virtue,  Sec,  Part  IV. 

fources,  relations  and  dependencies  of  things,  in  or- 
der to  form  their  Notion  of  faultinefs  or  blame- wor^ 
thinefs.  They  do  not  wait  till  they  have  decided  by 
their  refinings,  what  firft  determines  the  Will ; 
whether  it  be  determined  by  fomething  extrinfic,  or 
intrinfic  ;  whether  volition  determines  volition,  or 
whether  the  underilanding  determines  the  Will  ; 
whether  there  be  any  fuch  thing  as  inetaphyficians 
mean  by  contingence  (if  they  have  any  meaning  ;) 
whether  there  be  a  fort  of  a  ftrange  unaccountable 
fovereignty  in  the  Will,  in  the  exercife  of  which,  by 
its  own  fovereign  a6ts,  it  brings  to  pafs  all  its  own 
fovereign  a6ts.  They  do  not  take  any  part  of  their 
Notion  of  fault  or  blame  from  the  refolution  of  any 
fuch  queflions.  If  this  were  the  cafe,  there  are  mul- 
titudes, yea,  the  far  greater  part  of  mankind,  nine 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  out  of  a  thoufand,  would 
live  and  die,  without  having  any  fuch  Notion,  as 
that  of  fault,  ever  entering  into  their  heads,  or  with- 
out fo  much  as  one  having  any  conception  that  any 
body  was  to  be  either  blamed  or  commended  for 
any  thing.  To  be  fure,  it  would  be  a  long  time  be- 
fore  men  came  to  have  fuch  Notions.  Whereas  it 
is  manifcft,  they  are  fome  of  the  firfl;  Notions  that 
appear  iu  children  ;  who  difcover,  as  foon  as  they 
can  think,  or  fpeak,  or  ad  at  all  as  rational  crea- 
tures, a  fcnfe  of  defert.  And,  certainly,  in  forming 
their  Notion  of  it,  they  make  no  ufe  of  metaphyfics. 
AH  the  ground  they  go  upon,  confifts  in  thefe  two 
things  ;  experience,  and  a  natural  fcnfatioii  of  a  certain 
fitnefs  or  agreeablenefs,  which  there  is  in  uniting 
fuch  moral  evil  as  is  above  defcribed,  viz.  a  being  or 
^oing  wrong  xvith  the  Will,  and  refentment  in  others, 
and  pain  infli6ted  on  the  perfon  in  vv^hom  this  mor- 
al evil  is.  Which  natural  Senje  is  what  we  call  by 
^he  name  of  confcience. 

\t  is  true,  the  common  people  and  children,  in 


Se6l.  IV.        agrecdhk  to  common  Senfe  277 

their  Notion  of  any  faulty  a6l  or  deed,  of  any  per- 
fon,  do  fuppofc  that  it  is  the  perlbn's  own  acl  and 
deed.  But  this  is  all  that  belongs  to  what  they  un- 
derftand  by  a  thing's  being  a  perfon's  own  deed  or 
aclion  ;  even  that  it  is  Ibmcthing  done  by  him  of 
choice.  That  fome  exercife  or  motion  fliould  be- 
gin of  itfelf,  does  not  belong  to  their  No*tion  of  an 
aclion,  or  doing.  If  fo,  it  would  belong  to  their  No- 
tion of  it,  that  it  is  fomething,  which  is  the  caufe  of 
its  own  beginning  :  and  that  is  as  much  as  to  fay, 
that  it  is  before  it  begins  to  be.  Nor  is  their  No- 
lion  of  an  adion  ibme  motion  or  exercife,  that  be- 
gins accidentally,  without  any  caufe  or  reafon  ;  for 
that  is  contrary  to  one  of  the  prime  didlates  of 
common  Senfe,  namely,  that  every  thing  that  begins 
to  be,  has  fome  caufe  or  reafon  why  it  is. 

The  common  people,  in  their  Notion  of  a  faulty 
or  praife-worthy  deed  or  work  done  by  any  one, 
do  fuppofe,  that  the  man  does  it  in  the  exercife  of 
liberty.  But  then  their  Notion  of  liberty  is  only  a 
perfon's  having  opportunity  of  doing  as  he  pleafes. 
They  have  no  Notion  of  liberty  confiding  in  the  Will's 
firfl:  ading,  and  fo  caufing  its  own  a6ls  ;  and  deter- 
mining, and  fo  caufing  its  own  determinations  ;  or 
choofing,  and  fo  caufing  its  own  choice.  Such  a 
Notion  of  liberty  is  what  none  have,  but  thofe  that 
h^ve  darkened  their  own  minds  with  confufed  met- 
aphyfical  fpeculation,  and  abftrufe  and  ambiguous 
terms.  If  a  man  is  not  reftrained  from  a6ling  as 
his  Will  determines,  or  conftrained  to  a6l  other- 
wife  :  then  he  has  liberty,  according  to  common 
Notions  of  liberty,  without  taking  into  the  ide;\  that 
grand  contradidion  of  all,  the  determinations  of  a 
man's  free  Will  being  the  efFeds  of  the  determina- 
tions of  his  free  Will. — Nor  have  men  commonly 
any  Notion  of  freedom  confifting  in  indifference. 
For  if  (o,  then  it  would  be  agreeable  tp  their  No^ 


278  Neceffary  Virtue,  Sec,  Part  IV. 

tion,  that  the  greater  indifference  men  a6l  with, 
the  more  freedom  they  ad  with  ;  whereas,  the  re- 
verfe  is  true.  He  that  in  a6ling,  proceeds  with  the 
fulleft  inclination,  does  what  he  does  with  the  great- 
ell  freedom,  according  to  common  Senfe.  And  To 
far  is  it  from  being  agreeable  to  common  Senfe, 
that  fuch  liberty  as  conGfts  in  indifference  is  requi- 
fite  to  praife  or  blame,  that  on  the  contrary,  the  dic- 
tate of  every  man's  natural  fenfe  through  the  world 
is,  that  the  further  he  is  from  being  indifferent  in  his 
a6ling  good  or  evil,  and  the  more  he  does  either  with 
full  and  ftrong  inclination,  the  mure  is  he  efteemed 
or  abhorred,  commended  or  condemned. 

II.  If  it  were  inconfiilent  with  the  common  Senfe 
of  mankind,  that  men  (hould  be  either  to  be  blamed 
or  commended  in  any  volitions,  they  have,  or  fail 
of,  in  cafe  of  moral  neceffity  or  impoffibility ;  then 
it  would  furely  alfo  be  agreeable  to  the  fame  Senf« 
and  reafon  of  Mankind,  that  the  nearer  the  cafe  ap- 
proaches to  fuch  a  moral  neceffity  or  impoffibility, 
either  through  a  ftrong  antecedent  moral  propenfity, 
on  the  one  hand,*  or  a  great  antecedent  oppofition 
and  difficulty  on  the  other,  the  nearer  does  it  ap- 
proach to  a  being  neither  blameable  nor  commend- 
able ;  fo  that  a6ls  exerted  with  fuch  preceding  pro- 
penfity, would  be  worthy  of  proportionably  lefs 
praife;  and  when  omitted,  the  a6l  being  attended 
with  fuch  difficulty,  the  omiffion  would  be  worthy 
of  the  lefs  blame.  It  is  fo,  as  was  obferved  before, 
with  natural  neceffity  and  impoffibility,  propenfity 
and  difficulty  :  as  it  is  a  plain  diftate  of  the  fenfe  of 
all  Mankind,  that  natural  neceffity  and  impoffibili- 
ty take  away  fl// blame  and  praife;  and  therefore, 
that   the    nearer   the  approach  is   to  thefe,  through 

*  It  is  here  argued,  on  fuppofiiion  that  not  all  propenHty 
hnplies  moral  neceffity,  but  only  fome  very  high  degree ; 
wbich  none  will  deny. 


SeQ.  IV.       agreeahk  to  common  Senfe.  279 

previous  propenfity  or  difficulty,  fo  praife  and  blame 
are  proportionably  diminijhcd.  And  if  it  were  as 
much  a  di6late  of  common  Senfe,  that  moral  necefli- 
ty  of  doing,  or  impjflibility  of  avoiding,  takes  away 
all  praife  and  blame,  as  that  natural  necedity  or  irn- 
poffibility  does  this ;  then,  by  a  perfe6l  parity  of 
reafon,  it  would  be  as  much  the  di£late  of  common 
Senfe,  that  an  approach  to  moral  necelfity  of  doing, 
or  impoflibility  of  avoiding,  diminijiies  praife  and 
blame,  as  that  an  approach  to  natural  neceffity  and 
impoffibility  does  fo.  It  is  equally  the  voice  of 
common  Senfe,  that  perfons  are  exciijable  in  part,  in 
neglefting  things  difficult  againlt  their  Wills,  as  that 
they  are  excufahle  wholly  in  negleQing  things  impoffi- 
ble  againft  their  Wills.  And  if  it  made  no  differ- 
ence whether  the  impoffibility  were  natural  and  a- 
gainfl:  the  Will,  or  moral,  lying  in  the  Will,  with 
regard  to  excufablenefs ;  fo  neither  would  it  make 
any  difference,  whether  the  difficulty,  or  approach 
to  neceffity  be  natural  againft  the  Will,  or  moral, 
lying  in  the  propenfity  of  the  Will. 

But  it  is  apparent,  that  the  reverfe  of  thefe  things 
is  true.  If  there  be  an  approach  to  a  moral  necef- 
fity in  a  man's  exertion  of  good  a6ls  of  Will,  they 
being  the  exercife  of  a  ftrong  propenfity  to  good, 
and  a  very  powerful  love  to  virtue  ;  it  is  fo  far  from 
being  the  di6late  of  common  Senfe,  that  he  is  lefs 
virtuous,  and  the  lefs  to  be  efteemed,  loved  and 
praifed;  that  it  is  agreeable  to  the  natural  Notions 
of  all  mankind,  that  he  is  fo  much  the  better  man, 
worthy  of  greater  refpeft,  and  higher  commendation. 
And  the  ftronger  the  inclination  is,  and  the  nearer 
it  approaches  to  neceffity  in  that  refpetl;  ;  or  to  im- 
poffibility of  negle6ling  the  virtuous  a6l,  or  of  doing 
a  vicious  one  ;  (fill  the  more  virtuous,  and  worthy 
of  higher  commendation.  And,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  af  man  exerts  evil  a6ls  of  mind;  as,  for  inftance, 


28o  Neceffary  Virtue,  &c.  Part  IV. 

a6ls  of  pride  or  malice  from  a  rooted  and  ftrong  hab- 
it, or  principle  of  haughtinefs  and  malicioufnefs,  and 
a  violent  propenfity  of  heart  to  fuch  a6ls  ;  accord- 
ing to  the  natural  fenfe  of  men,  he  is  fo  far  from 
being  the  lefs  hateful  and  blameable  on  that  account, 
that  he  is  fo  much  the  more  worthy  to  he  detelled 
and  condemned,  by  all  that  obferve  him. 

Moreover,  it  is  manifefl  that  it  is  no  part  of  the 
Notion,  which  mankind  commonly  have  of  a  blame- 
able  or  praife-worthy  a6t  of  the  Will,  that  it  is  an 
a6l  which  is  not  determined  by  an  antecedent  bias  or 
motive,  but  by  the  fovereign  power  of  the  Will  it- 
felf ;  becaufe,  if  fo,  the  greater  hand  fuch  caufes 
have  in  determining  any  ads  of  the  Will,  fo  much 
the  lefs  virtuous  or  vicious  would  they  be  account- 
ed; and  the  lefs  hand,  the  more  virtuous  or  vicious. 
Whereas,  the  reverfe  is  true:  men  do  not  think  a 
good  a6l  to  be  the  lefs  praife-worthy,  for  the  agent's 
being  much  determined  in  it  by  a  good  inclination 
or  a  good  motive,  but  the  more.  And  if  good  in- 
clination or  motive,  has  but  little  influence  in  de- 
termining the  agent,  they  do  not  think  his  a6t  fo 
much  the  more  virtuous,  but  the  lefs.  And  fo  con- 
cerning evil  a6ls,  which  are  determined  by  evil  mo- 
tives or  inclinations. 

Yea,  if  it  be  fuppoled  that  good  or  evil  difpoli- 
tions  are  implanted  in  the  hearts  of  men,  by  nature 
itfelf,  (which,  it  is  certain,  is  vulgarly  fuppofed  iu 
innumerable  cafes)  yet  it  is  not  commonly  fuppofed, 
that  men  are  worthy  of  no  praife  or  difpraife  for 
fuch  difpofitions  ;  although  what  is  natural,  is  un- 
doubtedly ncccflary,  nature  being  prior  to  all  a6ls 
of  the  Will  whatfoevcr.  Thus,  for  inftance,  if  a 
man  appears  to  be  of  a  very  haughty  or  malicious 
difpofition,  and  is  fuppofed  to  be  fo  by  his  natural 
temper,  it  is  no  vulgar  Notion,  no  didate  of  the 
common  Senfe  and  apprehcnfion  of  men,  that  fuch 


Se£l.  IV.         ^^ra^^/^  ^0  common  Senfe.  281 

difpofitions  are  no  vices  or  moral  evils,  or  that  fuch 
perfons  are  not  worthy  of  difeftecm,  or  odium  and 
difhonour  ;  or  that  the  proud  or  malicious  ads 
which  flow  from  fuch  natural  difpofitions,  are  wor- 
thy of  no  refentment.  Yea,  fuch  vile  natural  dif- 
poiitions,  and  the  (Irength  of  them,  will  commonly 
be  mentioned  rather  as  an  aggravation  of  the  wick- 
ed a6ls,  that  come  from  fuch  a  fountain,  than  an  ex- 
tenuation of  them.  Its  being  natural  for  men  to 
a6l  thus,  is  often  obferved  by  men  in  the  height  of 
their  indignation  :  they  will  fay,  ''  It  is  his  very 
'•'  nature  :  he  is  of  a  vile  natural  temper  ;  it  is  as 
•^  natural  to  him  to  a6l  fo,  as  it  is  to  breathe  ;  he 
*'  cannot  help  ferving  the  devil;  &c/'  But  it  is  not 
thus  with  regard  to  hurtful  mifchievous  things,  that 
any  are  the  fubjeds  or  occafions  of,  by  natural  necef- 
fity,  againfl  their  inclinations.  In  fuch  a  cafe,  the 
neceflity,  by  the  common  voice  of  mankind,  will  be 
fpokenof  as  a  full  excufe. — Thus  it  is  very  plain,  that 
common  Senfe  makes  a  vafl  difference  between  thefe 
two  kinds  of  neceffity,  as  to  the  judgment  it  makes 
of  their  influence  on  the  moral  quality  and  defert 
of  men's  a6lions. 

And  thefe  di6lates  of  men's  minds  ^x.t  fo  natural 
and  necefl'ary,  that  it  may  be  very  much  doubted 
whether  the  Arminians  themfeives  have  ever  got  rid 
of  them  ;  yea,  their  greatefl:  dodors,  that  have  gone 
furtheft  in  defence  of  their  metaphyfical  Notions  of 
liberty,  and  have  brought  their  arguments  to  their 
greatefl  ftrength,  and,  as  they  fappofe,  to  a  demon- 
ftration,  againll  the  confidence  of  virtue  and  vice 
with  any  neceffity  :  it  is  to  be  queflioned,  whether 
there  is  fo  much  as  one  of  them,  but  that,  if  he  fuf- 
fered  very  much  from  the  injurious  acls  of  a  man, 
under  the  power  of  an  invincible'  haughtinefs  and 
malignancy  of  temper,  would  not,  fiom  the  fore- 
mentioned  natural  fenfe  of  mind,  refent  it  far  othcr- 

O  2 


282  Calvinifm  confijlent  Part  IV. 

wife,  than  if  as  great  fufFcrings  came  upon  him  from 
the  wind  that  blows,  and  fire  that  burns  by  natural 
necelfity  ;  and  otherwife  than  he  would,  if  he  fuf- 
fered  as  much  from  the  condu6t  of  a  man  perfectly 
delirious  ;  yea,  though  he  firll  brought  his  diftrac- 
tion  upon  him  fome  way  by  his  own  fault. 

Some  feem  to  difdain  the  di(lin£tion  that  we  make 
between  natural  and  moral  necejjity,  as  though  it  were 
altogether  impertinent  in  this  controverfy  :  *'  that 
"  which  is  necefiary  (fay  they)  is  neceifary  ;  it  is 
**  that  which  mud  be,  and  cannot  be  prevented.  And 
"  that  which  is  impcflible,  is  impodible,  and  cannot 
*'  be  done  :  and,  therefore,  none  can  be  to  blame  for 
*•  not  doing  it."  And  fuch  comparifons  are  made 
nfe  of,  as  the  commanding  of  a  man  to  walk,  who 
has  loft  his  legs,  and  condemning  and  puniftiing  him 
for  not  obeying  ;  inviting  and  calling  upon  a  man, 
who  is  fhut  up  in  a  ftrong  prifon,  to  come  forth,  ^c. 
But,  in  thefe  things,  Arminians  are  very  unreafona- 
ble.  Let  common  Senfe  determine  whether  there  be 
not  a  great  difference  between  thofe  two  cafes  ;  the 
one,  that  of  a  man  who  has  offended  his  Prince,  and 
is  caft  into  prifon  ;  and  after  he  has  lain  there  a 
while,  the  King  comes  to  him,  calls  him  to  come 
forth  to  him,  and  tells  him,  that  if  he  will  do  fo,  and 
Vvill  fall  down  before  him  and  humbly  beg  his  par- 
don, he  ftiall  be  forgiven,  and  fet  at  liberty,  and  alfo 
be  greatly  enriched,  and  advanced  to  honour  :  the 
prifoner  heartily  repents  of  the  folly  and  wickednefs 
of  his  efrence  againft  his  Prince,  is  thoroughly  dif- 
pofcd  to  abafe  himfelf,  and  accept  of  the  King's  of- 
fer; but  is  confined  by  ftrong  walls,  with  gates  of 
brafs,  and  bars  of  iron.  The  other  cafe  is,  that  of  a 
man  who  is  of  a  very  unreafonable  fpirit,  of  a  haugh- 
ty, ungrateful,  wilful  difpofition;  and,  moreover, 
has  been  brought  up  in  traitorous  principles  ;  and 
has  his  heart  poftefTed  with  an  extreme  and  inveterate 


Se6l.  IV,  ^iih  common  Scnfc.  283 

enmity  to  his  lawful  fovereign  ;  and  for  his  rebellion 
is  caft  into  prifon,  and  lies  long  there,  loaden  with 
heavy  chains,  and  in  miferable  circumflances.  At 
length  the  compaffionate  Prince  romcs  to  the  prif- 
on, orders  his  chains  to  be  knocked  off,  and  his  prif- 
on-doors  to  be  fct  wide  open  ;  calls  to  him,  and 
tells  him,  if  he  would  come  forth  to  him,  and  fall 
down  before  him,  acknowledge  that  he  has  treated 
him  unworthily,  and  afk  his  forgivenefs  ;  he  ihall 
be  forgiven,  fet  at  liberty,  and  let  in  a  place  of  great 
dignity  and  profit  in  his  court.  But  he  is  flout  and 
ftomachful,  and  full  of  haughty  malignity,  that  he 
cannot  be  willing  to  accept  the  offer  :  his  rooted 
flrong  pride  and  malice  have  perfe6l  power  over 
him,  and  as  it  were  bind  him,  by  binding  his  heart  : 
the  oppofition  of  his  heart  has  the  maflery  over 
him,  having  an  influence  on  his  mind  far  fuperior  to 
the  King's  grace  and  condefccnfion,  and  to  all  his 
offers  and  promifes.  Now,  is  it  agreeable  to  com- 
mon Senfe,  to  affert  and  (land  to  it,  that  there  is  no 
difference  between  thefe  two  cafes,  as  to  any  worthi- 
nefs  of  blame  in  the  prifoners  ;  becaufe,  forfooth, 
there  is  a  neceffity  in  both,  and  the  required  a6l  in 
each  cafe  is  impoffible  ?  It  is  true,  a  man's  evil  dif- 
pofitions  may  be  as  ilrong  and  immoveable  as  the 
bars  of  a  caftie.  But  who  cannot  fee,  that  when  a 
man,  in  the  latter  cafe,  is  faid  to  be  unable  to  obey  the 
command,  the  expreilion  is  ufed  improperly,  and 
hot  in  the  fenfe  it  has  originally  and  in  common 
rpeech  ?  And  that  it  may  properly  be  faid  to  be  in 
the  rebel's  power  to  come  out  of  prifon,  feeing  he 
can  eafily  do  it  if  he  pleafes  ;  though  by  realon  of 
his  vile  temper  of  heart,  which  is  fixed  and  rooted, 
it  is  impoffible  that  it  fhould  pleafe  him  ? 

Upon  the  whole,  1  prefume  there  is  no  perfon  of 
good  underftanding,  who  impartially  conliders  the 
things  which  have  been  obferved,  but  will  aHqw,  that 


284  Calvinifm  confijlcnt^  SiC,  Part  IV. 

it  is  not  evident,  from  the  didates  of  the  common 
Senfe,  or  natural  Notions  of  mankind,  that  moral 
neciffity  is  inconfiflent  with  Pralfe  and  lilame.  And, 
therefore,  if  the  Arminiam  would  prove  any  fuch  in- 
confiftency,  it  muft  be  by  feme  philofophical  and 
metaphyfical  arguments,  and  not  common  Senfe. 

There  is  a  grand  illufion  in  the  pretended  demon- 
flration  of  Arminzans  from  common  Senfe.  The  main 
llrength  of  all  thefe  demonflrations  lies  in  that  pre- 
judice, that  arifes  through  the  infenfible  change  of 
the  ufe  and  meaning  of  fuch  terms  as  liberty,  able, 
unable,  necejfary,  impojfihk,  unavoidable,  invincible,  ac- 
tion, &c,  from  their  original  and  vulgar  Senfe,  to  a 
metaphyfical  Senfe,  entirely  diverfe  ;  and  the  ftrong 
connexion  of  the  ideas  of  Blameleffnefs,  &c.  with 
fome  of  thefe  terms,  by  an  habit  contracted  and  ef- 
tablifhed,  while  thefe  terms  were  ufed  in  their  firft 
meaning.  This  prejudice  and  delufion,  is  the  foun- 
dation of  all  thofe  pofitions,  they  lay  down  as  max- 
ims, by  which  mofl  of  the  Scriptures,  which  they 
alledge  in  this  controverfy,  are  interpreted,  and  on 
which  all  their  pompous  demonflrations  from  Scrip- 
ture and  reafon  depend.  From  this  fecret  delufion 
and  prejudice  they  have  almofl:  all  their  advantages  : 
it  js  the  ftrength  of  their  bulwarks,  and  the  edge  of 
their  weapons.  And  this  is  the  main  ground  of  all 
the  right  they  have  to  treat  their  neighbours  in  fo 
alTuming  a  manner,  and  to  infult  others,  perhaps  as 
wife  and  good  as  themfelves,  as  xoeak  bigots,  men  that 
dwell  in  the  dark  caves  offiiperjlition,  perverfdy  Jet,  oh- 
Jiinately Jhutting  their  eyes  againjl  the  noon- day  light,  en- 
emies to  common  Senfe,  maintaining  the  jirji-born  of  ab- 
furdities^  8cc,  Sec.  But  perhaps  an  impartial  confid- 
eration  of  the  things,  which  have  been  obfcrved  in 
the  preceding  parts  of  this  enquiry,  may  enable  the 
lovers  of  truth  better  to  judge,  whofe  do6lrine  is  in- 
deed abfurd,  abfliufe,  felfcontradiUory,  and  inconlift- 


Se£l.  V.  Endeavours  not  rendered  vain,  Sec.         285 

ent  with  common  Senfe,  and  many  ways  repugnant 
to  the  univerfal  didlates  of  the  reafon  of  mankind. 

Corol.  From  things  which  have  been  obfervcd,  it 
will  follow,  that  it  is  agreeable  to  common  Senfe  to 
fuppofe,  that  the  glorified  faints  have  not  their  free- 
dom at  all  diminilhed,  in  any  refpedl ;  and  that  God 
Himfelf  has  uie  higheft  poffible  freedom,  according 
to  the  true  and  proper  meaning  of  the  term ;  and 
that  he  is,  in  the  higheft  poffible  refped,  an  agent, 
and  adive  in  the  exercife  of  his  infinite  holincfs ; 
though  he  a6ts  therein,  in  the  higheft  degree,  necef- 
farily  :  and  his  aftions  of  this  kind  are  in  the  high- 
eft, moft  abfolutely  perfect  manner  virtuous  and 
praife-worthy  :  and  are  fo,  for  that  very  reafon,  be- 
caufe  they  are  moft  perfe£lly  neceflary. 


/  bECTlONV. 

Concerning  tliofe  Objedions,  that  this  Scheme  of  Necef- 
fity  renders  all  Means  and  Endeavours  for  the  a* 
voiding  of  Sin^  or  the  obtaining  Virtue  and  Holmefs, 
vain,  and  to  no  purpofe ;  and  that  it  makes  Men  no 
more  than  mere  Machines  in  Affairs  of  Morality  and 
Religion. 

Arminians  fay,if  itbe  fo,  that  fin  and  virtue  come 
to  pafs  by  a  neceffity  confifting  in  a  fure  connexion 
of  caufes  and  efFe6ls,  antecedents  and  confequents, 
it  can  never  be  worth  the  while  to  ufe  any  Means  or 
Endeavours  to  obtain  the  one,  and  avoid  the  other; 
feeing  no  Endeavours  can  alter  the  futurity  of  the 
event,  which  is  become  neceflary  by  a  connexion  al- 
ready eftabliflied. 

But  I  defire,  that  this  matter  may  be  fully  confid- 
ered;  and  that  it  may  be  examined  with  a  thorough 


286  Endeavours  net  rendered  vain,       Part  IV. 

flri6}ners,  whether  it  will  follow  that  Endeavours 
and  Means,  in  order  to  avoid  or  obtain  any  future 
thing,  niuft  be  more  in  vain,  on  the  fuppofition  of 
fuch  a  connexion  of  antecedents  and  confequents, 
than  if  the  contrary  be  fuppofed. 

For  Endeavours  to  be  in  vain,  is  for  them  not  to  be 
fuccef&ful ;  that  is  to  fay,  for  (hem  net  eventually  to 
be  the  Means  of  the  thing  aimed  at,  which  cannot 
be,  but  in  one  of  thefe  two  ways  ;  either,  j^^y?,  That 
although  the  Means  are  ufed,  yet  the  event  aimed 
at  does  not  follow:  or,  fecondly,  If  the  event  does 
follow,  it  is  not  becaufe  of  the  Means,  or  from  any 
connexion  or  dependence  of  the  event  on  the  Means, 
the  event  would  have  come  to  pafs,  as  well  without 
the  Means  as  with  them.  If  either  of  thefe  two  things 
are  the  cafe,  then  the  Means  are  not  properly  fuccelT- 
ful,  and  are  truly  in  vain.  The  fuccefsfulnefs  orun- 
fuccefsfulnefs  of  Means,  in  order  to  an  efxedt,  or  their 
being  in  vain  or  not  in  vain,  confifls  in  thofe  Means 
being  conne6led,  or  not  connected,  with  the  e(Fe6l, 
in  fuch  a  manner  as  this,  viz.  That  the  effe6l  is  with 
the  Means,  and  not  without  them  ;  or,  that  the  bei^g 
t)f  the  efFe6l  is,  on  the  one  hand,  conne6ied  with 
Means,  and  the  want  of  the  efFe6l,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  conne£ted  with  the  want  of  the  Means.  If  there 
be  fuch  a  connexion  as  this  between  Means  and  end, 
the  Means  are  not  in  vain  :  the  more  there  is  of  fuch 
a  connexion,  the  further  they  are  from  being  in  vain ; 
acd  the  lefs  of  fuch  a  connexion,  the  more  they  are 
in  vain. 

Now,  therefore,  the  queflion  to  be  anfwered,  (in 
order  to  determine,  whether  itfoliows  from  this  doc- 
trine of  the  neceffary  connexion  between  foregoing 
things,  and  confequent  ones,  that  Means  ufed  in  or- 
der to  any  effcd,  are  more  in  vain  than  they  would 
be  otherwife)  is,  whether  it  follows  from  it,  that  there 
is  iefsof  the  foremcntioncd  connexion  between  Means 


Sccl.  V.  hy  Calviniftic  Principles,  287 

and  effe6t  ;  that  is,  whether,  on  the  fuppofition  of 
there  being  a  real  and  true  connexion  between  ante- 
cedent things  and  confequent  ones,  there  mufl  be 
lefs  of  a  connexion  between  Means  and  efFe61,  than 
on  the  fuppofition  of  there  being  no  fixed  connex- 
ion between  antecedent  things  and  confequent  ones : 
and  the  very  dating  of  this  quefiion  is  fufficient  to 
anfwer  it.  It  muft  appear  to  every  one  that  will 
open  his  eyes,  that  this  quefiion  cannot  be  affirmed, 
without  the  groffefl  abiurdity  and  inconfiflence. — 
Means  are  foregoincj  thin;][s,  and  elFedls  are  foUowincj; 
things :  And  if  there  were  no  connexion  between 
foregoing  things  and  following  ones,  there  could  be 
no  connexion  between  Means  and  end  ;  and  fo  all 
Means  would  be  wholly  vain  and  fruitlefs.  For  it  is 
by  virtue  of  fome  connexion  only,  that  they  become 
fuccefsful :  It  is  fome  connexion  obierved,  or  reveal- 
ed, or  otherwife  known,  between  antecedent  things 
and  following  ones,  that  is  what  dire6is  in  the  choice 
of  Means.  And  if  there  were  no  fuch  thing  as  an 
eftablifhed  connexion,  there  could  be  no  choice,  as 
to  Means ;  one  thing  would  have  no  more  tendency 
t(?an  efF^cl,  than  another;  there  would  be  no  fuch 
thing  as  tendency  in  the  cafe.  All  thofe  things, 
which  are  fuccefsful  Means  of  other  things,  do  there- 
in prove  conne6led  antecedents  of  them:  and  there- 
fore to  allert,  that  a  fixed  connexion  between  antece- 
dents and  confequents  makes  Means  vain  and  ufelefs, 
or  flands  in  the  way  to  hinder  the  connexion  between 
Means  and  end,  is  jufl  fo  ridiculous,  as  to  fay,  that  a 
connexion  between  antecedents  and  confequents 
{lands  in  the  way  to  hinder  a  connexion  between  an- 
tecedents and  confequents. 

Nor  can  any  fuppofed  connexion  of  the  fucceffion 

•  V    or  train  of   a#tccedents    and  confequents,  from   the 

very   beginning   of  all  things,  the  connexion    being 

niad^e  already  fure  and  neccflary,  either  by  eftabiiiii- 


288  Means  and  Endeavours  made  v^iin,    Part  IV. 

ed  laws  of  nature,  or  by  thefe  together  with  a  degree 
of  fovereign  immediate  interpohdons  of  divine  pow- 
er, on  fuch  and  fuch  occafions,  or  any  other  way  (if 
any  other  there  be;)  I  fay,  no  fuch  neceffary  con- 
nexion of  a  feries  of  antecedents  and  confequents  can 
in  the  leafl;  tend  to  hinder,  but  that  the  Means  we  ufe 
may  belong  to  the  feries  ;  and  fo  may  be  fome  of 
thofe  antecedents  which  are  connefted  with  the  con- 
fequents we  aim  at,  in  the  eflablifhed  courfe  of  things. 
Endeavours  which  we  ufe,  are  things  that  exift  ;  and, 
therefore,  they  belong  to  the  general  chain  of  events  ; 
all  the  parts  of  which  chain  are  fuppofed  to  be  con- 
neQed  :  and  fo  Endeavours  are  fuppofed  to  be  con- 
nected with  fome  effefts,  or  fome  confequent  things 
or  other.  And  certainly  this  does  not  hinder  but 
that  the  events  they  are  conne6led  with,  may  be 
thofe  which  we  aim  at,  and  which  we  choofe,  becaufe 
we  judge  them  mofl  likely  to  have  a  connexion  with 
thofe  events,  from  the  eftabliflied  order  and  courfe 
of  things  which  we  obferve,  or  from  fomething  in 
divine  Revelation, 

Let  us  fuppofe  a  real  and  fure  connexion  between 
a  man's  having  his  eyes  open  in  the  clear  day-light, 
with  good  organs  of  fight,  and  feeing  ;  fo  that  feeing 
is  connedled  with  his  opening  his  eyes,  and  not  fee- 
ing with  his  not  opening  his  eyes;  and  alfo  the  like 
connexion  between  fuch  a  man's  attempting  to  open 
his  eyes,  and  his  aftually  doing  it:  the  fuppofed  ef- 
tablifhed  connexion  between  thefe  antecedents  and 
confequents,  let  the  connexion  be  never  fo  fure  and 
necellary,  certainly  does  not  prove  that  it  is  in  vain, 
for  a  man  in  fuch  circumflances,  to  attempt  to  open 
bis  eyes,  in  order  to  feeing  :  his  aiming  at  that  event, 
and  the  ufe  of  the  Means,  being  the  cflFe6i:  of  his  Will, 
does  not  break  the  connexion,  or  hindir  the  fuccefs. 

So  that  the  objeQion  we  are  upon  docs  not  lie  a- 
gainfl:  the   dodlnne  of  the  neceflity  of  events  by  a 


Se6i;.  V.  hy  the  Arminian  Scheme,  289 

certainty  of  connexion  and  confcquence  :  Oa  tlie 
contrary,  it  is  truly  forcible  againfl  the  Arminian 
doctrine  of  contingence  and  felf-detcrmination;  which 
is  inconfiflent  with  fuch  a  connexion.  If  there  be 
no  connexion  between  thofe  events,  whereia  virtue 
and  vice  confift,  and  any  thing  antecedent ;  then 
there  is  no  connexion  between  thefe  events  and  any 
Means  or  Endeavours  ufed  in  order  to  them  :  and 
if  To,  then  thole  Means  muft  be  in  vain.  The  lefs 
there  is  of  connexion  between  foregoing  things  and 
following  ones,  fo  much  the  lefs  there  is  between 
Means  and  end,  Endeavours  and  fuccefs  ;  and  in  the 
fame  proportion  are  Means  and  Endeavours  inefFec- 
tual  and  in  vain. 

It  will  follow  from  Arminian  principles,  that  there 
is  no  degree  of  connexion  between  virtue  or  vice, 
and  any  foregoing  event  or  thing  :  or,  in  other 
words,  that  the  determination  of  theexiflence  of  vir- 
tue or  vice  do  not  in  the  lead  depend  on  the  influ- 
ence of  any  thing  that  comes  to  pafs  antecedently, 
from  which  the  determination  of  its  exigence  is,  as 
its  caufe,  Means,  or  ground  ;  becauiej  fo  far  as  it  is 
fo,  it  is  not  from  felf-determination :  and,  therefore, 
fo  far  there  is  nothing  of  the  nature  of  virtue  or  vice. 
And  (o  it  follows,  that  virtue  and  vice  are  not  at  all, 
in  any  degree,  dependent  upon,  or  connected  with, 
any  foregoing  event  or  exiftence,  as  its  caufe,  ground, 
or  Means.  And  if  fo,  then  all  foregoing  Means  mufl 
be  totally  in  vain. 

Hence  it  follows,  that  there  cannot,  in  any  con- 
fijlence  wiih  the  Arminian  fcheme,  be  any  reafonablc 
ground  of  fo  much  as  a  conjetlure  concerning  the 
conlequence  of  any  Means  and  Endeavours,  in  order 
to  efcaping  vice  or  obtaining  virtue,  or  any  choice 
or  preference  of  Means,  as  having  a  greater  proba- 
bility of  fuccefs  by  fome  than  others  ;  either  from 
any  natural  connexion  or  dependence  of  the  end  011 

Pa 


290         Calvinifm  docs  net  encourage  Sloih,  Part  IV. 

the  xMeans,  or  tlivou;ih  any  divine  conflitution,  or 
levealed  way  of  God's  befto'.viiig  or  bringing  to  pais 
thete  things,  in  confequence  of  any  Means,  Endea- 
vours, pra)ers  or  deeds.  ConjeQures,  in  this  latter 
cafe,  depend  on  a  fuppofition,  that  God  himfclf  is 
the  giver,  or  determining  caufe  of  the  events  fought : 
but  if  tiiev  depend  on  fcif- determination,  \then  God 
is  not  the  deteimining  or  difpofing  author  of  them  : 
and  if  thefc  things  are  not  of  his  difpofal,  then  no 
conjedure  can  be  made,  from  any  revelation  he  has 
given,  conceining  any  way  or  method  of  his  difpofal 
of  theni. 

Yea,  on  ihefc  principles,  it  will  not  only  follow, 
that  men  cannot  have  any  reafonabie  ground  of 
judgment  or  cor;jc6ture,  that  their  Means  and  En- 
deavours to  obtain  virtue  or  avoid  vice,  will  be  fuc- 
cefsful,  but  they  may  be  fure,  they  will  not;  they 
iiiay  be  certain,  that  they  will  be  in  vain  ;  and  that 
if  ever  the  thing,  which  ihey  feek,  comes  to  pafs,  it 
will  not  be  at  all  owing  to  the  Means  they  ufe.  For 
Means  and  Endeavours  can  have  no  efFedl  at  all,  in 
order  to  obtain  the  end,  but  in  one  of  thefe  two 
.ways  :  either,  (1.)  Through  a  natural  tendency  and 
influence,  to  prepare  and  difpofe  the  mind  more  to 
virtuous  ads,  either  by  caufing  the  difpofition  of  the 
heart  to  be  more  in  favour  of  fuch  ads,  or  by  bring- 
in  ^^  the  mind  more  into  the  view  of  powerful  motives 
and  inducements  :  or,  (2.)  By  putting  perfons  more 
in  the  way  of  God's  beflowm.ent  of  the  benefit.  But 
neither  of  thefe  can  be  the  cafe.  A'ot  the  latttr  ;  for, 
as  has  been  juil  now  obferved,  it  does  not  confifl 
wiih  the  Arminian  notion  of  fclf-determination, 
which  ihey  fuppofe  eilcntial  to  virtue,  that  God 
fhouldbe  the  bcllov/cr,  or  (which  is  the  fame  thing) 
the  determining,  difpoling  author  of  virtue.  Not  Ihs 
Jonner,  for  natural  influence  and  tendency  fuppofes 
caufaiity  and  connexion  ;  and  fuppofes  necefTr.y  of 


Se£l.  V.  Calvinifm  dois  not  encourage  Sloth.         291 

event,  which  is  inconfiQent  with  Arminian  liberty. 
A  tendency  of  xMeans,  by  biafing  the  heart  in  favour 
of  virtue,  or  by  bringing  the  Will  under  the  influ- 
ence and  powei  of  motives  in  its  determinations,  are 
both  inconfillcnt  with  Arminian  liberty  of  Will,  con- 
fining in  indifFerence,  and  fovereign  felf-determina- 
tion,  as  has  been  largely  demonftrated. 

But  for  the  more  full  removal  of  this  prejudice 
againft  the  dodlrine  of  nccefhiy,  vrhich  has  been 
maintained,  as  though  it  tended  to  encourage  a  total 
negle6l  of  all  Endeavours  as  vain  ;  the  following 
things  may  be  confidered. 

The  quefiion  is  not,  whether  men  may  not  thus 
improA'e  this  dodrine  :  we  know  that  many  true  and 
wholefome  do6trines  are  abufed  :  bur,  vv^hcther  the 
dodrine  gives  any  jud  occafion  for  fach  an  improveJ^ 
mcnt  ;  or  whether,  on  the  fuppofition  of  the  truth 
of  the  doftrine,  fuch  a  ufeof  it  would  not  be  unrea- 
fonable  ?  If  any  fnall  affirm,  that  it  would  not,  but 
that  the  v^ry  nature  of  the  do6lrine  is  fuch  as  gives 
juft  occaiion  for  it,  it  muft  be  on  this  fuppofition, 
namely,  that  fuch  an  invariable  necelfity  of  all  things 
already  fettled,  muft  render  the  interpofition  of  all 
Means,  Endeavours,  conclulions  or  actions  of  ours, 
in  order  to  the  obtaining  any  future  end  whatfoever, 
perfe6liy  infignificant ;  becaufe  they  cannot  in  the 
Jeaft  alter  or  vary  the  courfe  and  feries  of  things,  in 
any  event  or  circumflancc  ;  all  being  already  fixed 
unalterably  by  neceflify  :  and  that  therefore  it  is  folly, 
for  men  to  ufe  any  Meansybr  any  end  ;  but  their  wif- 
dom,  to  fave  themfelvcs  the  trouble  of  Endeavours, 
and  take  their  eafe.  No  perfon  can  draw  fuch  an  in- 
ference from  this  do6lrine,  and  come  to  fuch  a  conclu- 
fion,  without  contradi6ling  himfelf,  and  going  counter 
to  the  very  principles  he  pretends  to  atl  up^M  :  for  he 
comes  to  a  ccnclufion,  and  takes  a  courfe,  in  ordc-  to 
an  end,  even  his  eaft^  or  the  faving  himfelf  from  trou- 


292      Calvinifm  does  not  encourage  Sloth.     Part  IV. 

ble  ;  he  feeks  fomething  future,  and  ufes  Means  in 
order  to  a  future  thing,  even  in  his  drawing  up  that 
conclufion,  that  he  will  feek  nothing,  and  ufe  no 
Means  in  order  to  any  thing  in  future  ;  he  fceks  his 
future  er.fe,  and  the  benefit  and  comfort  of  indolence. 
If  prior  neccfTity,  that  determines  all  things,  makes 
vain  all  a6lions  or  conclufions  of  ours,  in  order  to 
any  thing  future  :  then  it  makes  vain  all  conclufions 
and  condu6i:  of  ours,  in  order  to  our  future  eafe. 
The  meafure  of  our  eafe,  with  the  time,  manner,  and 
every  circumflance  of  it,  is  already  fixed,  by  all-de- 
termining neceflity,  as  much  as  any  thing  elfe.  If 
he  fays  within  himfelf,  '*  What  future  happinefs  or 
"  mifery  I  fhall  have,  is  already,  in  efFe6l,  determin- 
*'  ed  by  the  nccefifary  courfe  and  connexion  of  things ; 
"  therefore,  I  will  fave  myfelf  the  trouble  of  labour 
*^  and  diligence,  which  cannot  add  to  my  determin- 
**  ed  degree  of  happinefs,  or  diminifh  my  mifery  ; 
*'  but  will  take  my  eafe,  and  will  enjoy  the  comfort 
**  of  floth  and  negligence."  Such  a  man  contradi6ls 
himfelf:  he  fays,  the  meafure  of  his  future  happi- 
nefs and  mifery  is  already  fixed,  and  he  will  not  try- 
to  diminifh  the  one,  nor  add  to  the  other  :  but  yet, 
in  his  very  conclufion,  he  contradi6ls  this  ;  for,  he 
takes  up  this  conclufion,  io  add  to  hi>fvlure  happinefs, 
by  the  eafe  and  comfort  of  his  negligence  ;  and  to 
diminifh  his  future  trouble  and  mifery,  by  faving 
himfelf  the  trouble  of  ufing  ?vleans  and  taking  pains. 
Therefore  perfons  cannot  reafonably  make  this 
improvement  of  the  dotlrinc  of  necefiTuy,  that  they 
will  go  into  a  voluntary  negligence  of  Means  for  their 
own  happinefs.  For  the  principles  they  mufl;  go 
upon  in  order  to  this,  are  inconfiRent  with  their 
making  any  improvement  at  all  of  the  doctrine  :  for 
to  make  fome  improvement  of  it,  is  to  be  influenced 
by  it,  to  come  to  fome  voluntary  conclufion,  in  re- 
gard to  their  own  condudl,  with  fome  view  or  aim  : 


Se6l.  V.  Calvinlfm  does  not  make  Men  Machines.    293 

bat  this,  as  has  been  (liown,  is  inconfiflent  with  die 
principles  they  pretend  to  a6l  upon.  In  (liorr,  ihe 
principles  are  (uch  as  cannot  be  a61:ed  upon  at  a\\, 
or,  in  any  refpeB,  confidently.  And,  therefore,  in 
every  pretence  of  a6ling  upon  them,  or  making  any 
improvement  at  all  of  them,  there  is  a  felf- contradic- 
tion. 

As  to  that  obje6lion  againfl  the  do6lrine,  which  I 
have  endeavoured  to  prove,  that  it  makes  men  no 
more  than  mere  Machines  i  I  would  fay,  that  not- 
withftanding  this  dodiine,  Man  is  entirely,  perfe6lly 
and  unfpeakably  different  from  a  mere  Machine,  in 
that  he  has  reaJbn  ax^id  undcrflandincj,  and  has  a 
faculty  of  Will,  and  is  fo  capable  of  volition  and 
choice  ;  and  in  that,  his  Will  is  guided  hy  the  dic- 
tates or  views  of  his  underflanding  ;  and  in  that  his 
external  a6lions  and  behaviour,  and,  in  many  re- 
fpe6^s,  alfo  his  thoughts,  and  the  exercifes  of  his 
mind,  are  fubjeiSl  to  his  Will ;  fo  that  he  has  liberty 
to  a£l  according  to  his  choice,  and  do  what  he  plea fes; 
and  by  Means  of  thefe  things,  is  capable  of  moral 
habits  and  moral  atls,  fuch  mclinaiions  and  a£lions 
as,  according  to  the  common  fenfe  of  mankind,  arc 
worthy  of  praifc,  efleem,  love  and  reward  ;  or,  ou 
the  contrary,  of  difefteem,  deteflaiion,  indignation 
and  punifhment. 

In  thefe  things  is  all  the  difference  from  mere 
Machines,  as  to  liberty  and  agency,  that  would  be 
any  perfedion,  dignity  or  privilege,  in  any  refpe6l  : 
all  the  difference  that  can  be  dehred,  and  all  that  can 
be  conceived  of;  and  indeed  all  that  the  pretennons 
of  the  Arminians  themfelves  com^e  to,  as  they  are 
forced  often  to  explain  themfelves.  (Though  rheir 
explications  overthrow  and  abolifli  the  things  affert- 
ed,  and  pretended  to  be  explained,)  for  they  are  forc- 
ed to  explain  a  felf-dx^tcrmining  power  of  Will,  hv 
a  power  in  the  foul,   to    de: ermine  as  it  choofes  ox 


294  0/the  Stoical  Fate.  Part  IV. 

Wilis  ;  which  comes  to  no  more  llian  this,  that  a 
man  has  a  power  of  choofing,  and,  in  many  inftanc- 
es,  can  do  as  he  choofes.  Which  is  quite  a  differ- 
ent thing  from  that  contraditlion,  his  having  power 
of  choofing  his  firft  aft  of  choice  in  the  cafe. 

Or,  if  their  fcheme  makes  any  other  difference 
than  this,  between  Men  and  Machines,  it  is  for  the 
worfe  :  it  is  fo  far  from  fuppofmg  Men  to  have  a 
dignity  and  privilege  above  Machines,  that  it  makes 
the  manner  of  their  being  determined  flill  more  un- 
happy. Whereas,  Machines,  are  guided  by  an  un- 
derUanding  caufe,  by  the  fkilful  hand  of  the  work- 
man or  owner ;  the  Will  of  Man  is  left  to  the  guid- 
ance of  nothing,  but  abfolute  blind  contingence. 


Section    VI. 

Concerning  that  Obje61ion  againji  the  Docirine  which 
has  been  maintained^  that  it  agrees  with  the  Stoical 
JDc^rinc  o/F^te,  and  the  Opinions  of  Mr,  Hobbes, 

When  Calvinijls  oppofe  the  Arminian  notion  o^ 
the  freedom  of  Will,  and  contingence  of  volition,  and 
infift  that  there  are  no  a6ls  of  the  Will,  nor  any  oth- 
er events  v^hatfoever,  but  what  are  attended  with 
fome  kind  of  neceffity  ;  their  oppofers  cry  out  of 
them,  as  agreeing  with  the  ancient  Stoics  in  their 
do6lrine  of  Fate^  and  with  Mr.  Kobbes  in  his  opin- 
ion of  neceffity. 

It  would  not  be  worth  while  to  take  notice  of  fo 
impertinent  an  obje6tion,  had  it  not  been  urged  by 
fome  of  the  chief  Arminian  writers.  There  were 
many  important  truths  maintained  by  the  ancient 
Greek  and  Rcraan  philofophers,  and  efpecially  the 
^Stoics,   that    are  never  the  worfc    for  being  held  by 


Seft.  VI.  OJ  the  Stoical  Fate.  295 

them.  The  Stoic  philofophers,  by  the  general 
agreement  of  Chriilian  divines,  and  even  Arminian 
divines,  were  the  greateft,  wifeft,  and  moft  virtuous 
of  all  the  heathen  philofophers  ;  and,  in  their  doc- 
trine and  pra6tice,  came  the  neareft  to  Chriftianity  of 
any  of  their  fe6ls.  How  frequently  are  the  fayings  of 
thefe  philofophers,  in  many  of  the  writings  and  fer- 
mons,  even  of  Arminian  divines,  produced,  not  as 
arguments  of  the  falfenefs  of  the  do6lrines  which 
they  delivered,  but  as  a  confirmation  of  fome  of  the 
greateft  truths  of  the  Chrifiian  religion,  relating  to 
the  unity  and  perfe6lions  of  the  Godhead,  a  future 
ftate,  the  duty  and  happinefs  of  mankind,  &c.  as  ob- 
ferving  how  the  light  of  nature  and  reafon,  in  the 
wifefl  and  befl  of  the  Heathens,  harmonized  with, 
and  confirms  the  Gofpei  of  Jefus  Chrift. 

And  it  is  very  remarkable,  concerning  Dr.  Whit- 
by, that  although  he  alledges  the  agreement  of  the 
Sloici  with  us,  wherein  he  fuppofes  they  maintain- 
ed the  like  do£lrine  with  us,  as  an  argument  againfl 
the  truth  of  our  do6irine  ;  yet,  this  very  Dr.  Whit- 
by alledges  the  agreement  of  the  Sicic^  with  the  Ar-^ 
tninians,  wherein  he  fuppofes  they  taught  the  fame 
doftrine  with  them,  as  an  argument  for  the  truth  of 
their  do6lrine."*^'  So  that,  v/hen  the  Stoics  agree 
with  them,  this  (it  feems)  is  a  confirmation  of  their 
do6lrine,  and  a  confutation  of  oars,  as  fliewing  that 
our  opinions  are  contrary  to  the  natural  fenlc  and 
common  realon  of  mankind  :  ncverthelefij,  when  the 
Stoics  agree  with  ws,  it  argues  no  fuch  thing  in  our 
favour;  but,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  great  argument 
againil  us,  and  (hews  our  do6lrine  to  be  heathenilh. 

It  is  obferved  by  fome  Calviniftic  writers,  that  the 
Arminians  fymbolize  with  the  Stoics,  in  fome  of  thofc 
dotlrines  wherein  they  are  oppoied  by  the  Calvin^ 

^V/kitby  on  the  ave  points,  Edit.  3.  p.  32^,  326,  327. 


zgG  Of  the  Stoical  Fate.  Tart  IV. 

ifts ;  particularly  in  their  denying  an  original,  in- 
nate, total  corruption  and  depravity  of  heart;  and 
in  what  they  held  of  man's  abiHty  to  make  himfelf 
truly  virtuous  and  contormed  to  God ; — and  in  fome 
other  doftrines. 

It  may  be  further  obferved,  it  is  certainly  no  bet- 
ter objedion  againll  our  do6lrine,  that  it  agrees,  in 
fome  rerpe6ls,  with  the  dndtiinc  of  the  ancient  Stoic 
philolophers,  than  it  is  againft  theirs,  wherein  they 
differ  from  us,  that  it  agrees,  in  fome  rcfpefts,  with 
the  opinion  of  the  very  w^orfl  of  the  heathen  philof- 
ophers.  the  followers  of  Epicurus,  that  father  of 
athcifm  and  licentioufnels,  and  with  the  dochine  of 
the  Sadducees  and  Jcfuits. 

I  am  not  much  concerned  to  know  precifely,  what 
the  ancient  Stoic  philofophers  held  concerning  Fate^ 
in  order  to  determine  what  is  truth ;  as  though  it 
were  a  lure  way  to  be  in  the  right,  to  take  good  heed 
to  differ  from  them.  It  feems,  that  they  differed  a- 
mong  themfelves;  and  probably  the  do6lrine  of 
Fate  as  maintained  by  mofl  of  them,  was,  in  fome 
refpeds,  erroneous.  Eut  whatever  their  do6lrine 
was,  if  any  of  them  held  luch  a  Fate,  as  is  repugnant 
to  any  liberty,  confiMing  in  our  doing  as  we  pieafe, 
1  utterly  deny  fuch  a  Fate.  If  they  held  any  fuch 
Fate,  as  is  not  confiflent  with  the  common  and  uni- 
vcrlai  notions  that  mankind  have  of  liberty,  adivity, 
moral  agency,  virtue  and  vice  ;  I  difclaim  any  fuch 
thing,  and  thuik  I  have  demonilraied  that  the  (cheme 
I  maintain  is  no  fuch  Icheme.  If  the  Stuics,  by  Fate, 
meant  any  thing  of  fuch  a  nature,  as  can  be  fiippof- 
ed  to  fland  in  ihc  way  of  the  advantage  and  benefit 
of  the  ule  of  Means  and  Endeavours,  or  make  it  lefs 
worth  the  while  for  men  todelire,  and  feek  after  any 
thing  wherein  their  virtue  and  happincls  confifls  ; 
I  hold  no  dodrinc  that  is  clogged  with  any  fuch  in- 
convenience, any  mure  than  any  other  iciiuine  wiiat- 


Sea.  VI.  Of  Hobbiflical  Neceffiiy,  297 

foever;  and  by  no  means  fo  much  as  the  Arminian 
fcheme  of  contingence  ;  as  has  been  fhewn.  If  they 
held  any  fuch  do6lrine  of  univeifal  fatality,  as  is  in- 
confident  with  any  kind  of  liberty,  that  is  or  can  be 
any  peife6tion,  dignity,  privilege  or  benefit,  or  any 
thing  defirable,  in  any  refpe6t,  for  any  intelligent 
creature,  or  indeed  with  any  liberty  that  is  pofTible 
or  conceivable  ;  I  embrace  no  fuch  do£lrine.  If 
they  held  any  fuch  do6lrine  of  Fate,  as  is  inconfifl;- 
ent  with  the  world's  being  ia  all  things  fubjed  to  the 
difpofal  of  an  intelligent  wife  agent,  that  prefides, 
rot  as  the  foul  of  the  world,  but  as  the  Sovereign 
Zari  of  the  Univerfe,  governing  all  things  by  prop- 
er will,  choice  and  defign,  in  the  exercife  of  the  moft 
perfect  liberty  conceivable,  without  fubje6lion  to  any 
conllrainr,  or  being  properly  under  the  power  or  in- 
fluence of  any  thing  before,  above  or  without  him- 
felf ;  I  wholly  renounce  any  fuch  do6lrine. 

As  to  Mr.  Hobbes'  mainttining  the  fame  do£lrine 
concerning  neceffity  ;  I  confefs,  it  happens  I  never 
read  Mr.  Hobbes.  Let  his  opinion  be  what  it  wiil, 
we  need  not  rc-jcB:  all  truth  which  is  demonllrated 
by  clear  evidence,  merely  becaufe  it  was  once  held 
by  fome  bad  man.  This  great  truth,  that  Jefus  is  the 
Son  of  God,  was  not  fpoiled  becaufe  it  was  once  and 
again  proclaimed  with  a  loud  voice  by  the  devil.  If 
truth  is  fo  defiled,  becaufe  it  is  fpoken  by  the  mouth, 
or  written  by  the  pen  of  fome  ill  minded  mifchievous 
man,  that  it  muft  never  be  received,  we  fhall  never 
know,  when  we  hold  any  of  the  moft  precious  and 
evident  truths  by  a  fare  tenure.  And  if  Mr.  Hobbes 
has  made  a  bad  ufe  of  this  truth,  that  is  to  be 
lamented  ;  but  the  tiuth  is  not  to  be  thought  worthy 
of  rejeftion  on  that  account.  It  is  common  for  the 
corruptions  of  the  hearts  of  evil  men  to  abufe  the 
beft  things  to  vile  purpofes. 

1  might  alfo  take  notice  of  its  having  been  obferv- 


298  Concerning  the  NcceGTity  Part  IV. 

ed,  that  the  Arininians  agree  with  Mr.  Hobbes  in 
many  mare  things  than  the  Calvinijls*  As,  in  what 
he  is  faid  to  hold  concerning  original  fin.  in  denying 
the  necelTity  of  fupernatural  iUumination,  in  deny- 
ing infufed  grace,  in  denying  the  do6trine  of  juftifi- 
cation  by  faith  alone  ;   and  other  things. 


Section     VII. 
Concerning  the  Neceffity  of  the  Divine  Will. 

OoME  may  poflTibly  objacl  againfl  what  has  been 
fuppofed  of  the  abfurdity  and  inconfillence  of  a  felf- 
determining  power  in  the  Will,  and  the  impoffibil- 
ity  of  its  being  otherwife,  than  that  the  Will  fhould 
be  determined  in  every  cafe  by  fome  motive,  and  by 
a  motive  which  (as  it  (lands  in  the  view  of  the  un- 
derftanding)  is  of  fuperior  ftrength  to  any  appearing 
on  the  other  fide;  that  if  thefe  things  are  true,  it 
will  follow,  that  not  only  the  Will  of  created  minds, 
but  the  Vv^ill  of  God  HirnfelJ  is  ncceflfary  in  all  its 
determinations.  Concerning  which,  fays  the  Au- 
thor of  the  EJfay  on  the  Freedom  oj  the  Will  in  God  and 
in  the  Creature  (pag.  85,  86J  *'  What  ftrange  doc- 
*'  trine  is  this,  contrary  to  all  our  ideas  of  the  do- 
*'  minion  of  God  ?  Does  it  not  deftroy  the  glory  of 
**  his  liberty  of  choice,  and  take  away  from  the  Cre- 
*'  ator  and  Governor  and  Benefaftor  of  the  world, 
"  that  moll  free  and  Sovereign  Agent,  all  the  glory 
*'  of  this  fort  of  freedom  ?  Does  it  not  feem  to  make 
"  him  a  kind  of  mechanical  medium  of  fate,  andin- 
**  troduce  Mr.  Hobbes'  do6lrine  of  fatality  and  Ne- 
*'  ceffity,  into  all  things  that  God  hath  to  do  with  ? 

*  Dr.  Gil),  in  his  Anfwer  to  Dr.  Whitby.     Vol.  III.  p. 
183,  &c. 


Se6l.  VII.         of  the  DWint  Vtlilion,  299 

*^  Does  it  not  feem  to  reprefent  the  blcflfed  God,  as 
*'  a  Being  of  vaR  underflanding,  as  well  as  power 
*'  and  efficiency,  but  ftill  to  leave  him  withouc  a 
*'  Will  to  choofe  among  all  the  objeds  within  his 
*'  View  ?  In  (hort,  it  feems  to  make  the  blelFed  God 
*'  a  fort  of  Almighty  Minider  of  Fate,  under  its  uni- 
**  verfal  and  fupreme  influence  ;  as  it  was  the  pro- 
*'  felled  fentiment  of  fome  of  the  ancients,  that  Fate 
*'  was  above  the  gods." 

This  is  declaiming,  rather  than  arguing  ;  and  an 
application  to  men's  imaginations  and  prejudices, 
rather  than  to  mere  reafon. — But  I  would  calmly 
endeavour  to  conhder,  whether  there  be  any  reafon 
in  this  frightful  reprefentation.— But  before  I  enter 
upon  a  particular  confideration  cf  the  matter,  I  would 
obferve  this  :  that  it  is  reafonable  to  fuppofe,  it 
fhould  be  much  more  difficult  to  exprefs  or  conceive 
things  according  to  exa^l  metaphyiical  truth,  relat- 
ing to  the  nature  and  manner  of  the  exiftence  of 
things  in  the  Divine  Underflanding  and  Will,  and 
the  operation  of  thefe  faculties  ^if  I  may  fo  call 
them)  of  the  Divine  Mind,  than  in  the  human  mind; 
which  is  infinitely  more  within  our  view,  and  near- 
er to  a  proportion  to  the  meafure  of  our  compre- 
henfion,  &  more  commenfurate  to  the  ufe  and  import 
of  human  fpeech.  Language  is  indeed  very  defi- 
cient, in  regard  of  terms,  to  exprefs  precife  truth  con- 
cerning our  own  minds,  and  their  faculties  and  op- 
erations. Words  were  firlt  formed  to  exprefs  exter- 
nal things  ;  and  thofe  that  are  applied  to  exprefs 
things  internal  and  fpiritual,  are  almoft  all  borrow- 
ed, and  ufed  in  a  fort  of  figurative  fenfe.l  Whence 
they  are,  moft  of  them,  attended  with  a  great  deal 
of  ambiguity  and  unfixednefs  in  their  fi^nification, 
occafjonmg  innumerable  doubts,  difficulties  and 
confufions,  in  inquiries  and  controverfies,  about 
things  of  this  nature.     But  language  is  much  lefs 


300  Concerning  the  Neceflity,  &c.      Part  IV, 

adapted  to  exprefs  things  in  the  mind  of  the  incom- 
prehenfible  Deity,  precilely  as  they  are. 

We  find  a  great  deal  of  difBculty  in  conceiving 
exadlly  of  the  nature  of  our  own  fouls.  And  not- 
withftanding  all  the  progrefs  which  has  been  made, 
in  paft  and  prefent  ages,  in  this  kind  of  knowledge, 
whereby  our  metaphyfics,  as  it  relates  to  thefe  things, 
is  brought  to  greater  perfedion  than  once  it  was  ; 
yet,  here  is  ftill  work  enough  left  for  future  inquiries 
and  refearches,  and  room  for  progrefs  dill  to  be 
made,  for  many  ages  and  generations.  But  we  had 
need  to  be  infinitely  able  metaphyficians,  to  con- 
ceive with  clearnefs,  according  to  ftntl,  proper  and 
perfe6l  truth,  concerning  the  nature  of  the  Divine 
Effence,  and  the  modes  of  the  a6lion  and  operation 
of  the  powers  of  the  Divine  Mind. 

And  it  may  be  noted  particularly,  that  though 
we  are  oblioed  to  conceive  of  fome  things  in  God  as 
confequent  and  dependent  on  others,  and  of  fome 
things  pertaining  to  the  Divine  Nature  and  Will  as 
the  foundation  of  others,  and  lo  before  others  in  the 
order  of  nature  :  as,  we  muft  conceive  of  the  knowl- 
edge and  holinefs  of  God  as  prior,  in  the  order  of 
nature,  to  his  happinefs  ;  the  perfeftion  of  his  un- 
derflanding,  as  the  foundation  of  his  wife  purpofes 
and  decrees  ;  the  holinefs  of  his  nature,  as  the  caufe 
and  realon  of  his  holy  determinations.  And  yet, 
when  we  fpeak  of  caufe  and  tffe6l,  antecedent  and 
confequent,  fundamental  and  dependent,  determin- 
ing and  determined,  in  the  fiift  Being,  who  is  felf- 
exiflent,  independent,  of  perfett  and  abfolute  firn- 
plicity  and  immutability,  and  the  firft  caufe  of  all 
thiiig>  ;  doubtlefs  there  mull  be  lefs  propriety  in 
fuch  reprcfentations,  that  when  we  fpeak  of  derived 
dependent  beings,  who  are  compounded,  and  liable 
to  pt-rpetual  mudtion  and  fuccelfion. 

Having  prcmifed  this,  I  proceed  to  obferve  cor^ 


Std:,  VII.    Necfjily  of  aUin^  mojl  wifely,  G?c.       301 

cerning  the  forementioned  Author's  exclamation,  a- 
bout  the  ncccjfary  Determination  of  God's  Will^  in  all 
things,  by  what  he  fees  to  he/utcjl  and  beJL 

Ti^jat  all  the  fceming  force  of  luch  objec"tions  and 
exclamations  mud  arife  from  an  imagination,  that 
there  is  lome  lort  of  privilege  or  dignity  in  being 
without  fuch  a  moral  Necefiity,  as  will  make  it  im- 
polTible  to  do  any  other,  than  always  choofe  what 
is  wifeft  and  befl  ;  as  though  there  were  fome  dif- 
advantage,  meannefs  and  fubjeclion,  in  fuch  a  Ne- 
ceffitv  ;  a  thing  by  which  the  Will  was  confined, 
kept  under,  and  held  in  fervitude  by  fomething, 
which,  as  it  were,  maintained  a  ftrong  and  invinci- 
ble power  and  dominion  over  ir,  by  bonds  that  held 
him  faft,  and  that  he  could,  by  no  means,  deliver 
himfelf  from.  Whereas,  this  mull  be  all  mere  im- 
agination and  delufion.  It  is  no  difadvantage  or 
difhonour  to  a  being,  neceflfarily  to  a6l  in  the  moll 
excellent:  and  happy  manner,  from  the  neceifary 
perfection  of  his  own  nature.  This  argues  no  im- 
perfe6liun,  inferiority  or  dependence,  nor  any  want: 
of  dignity,  privilege  or  aicendency.*     It  is  not  iii- 

*  **  It  might  have  been  obje£led,  with  more  plaunblenefs, 
*'  that  the  Supreme  Caule  cannot  be  hee,  becaufe  he  mutt 
*•  needs  do  always  what  is  bcft  in  the  whole.  But  this  would 
"  not  at  ail  ferve  Spinoza's  purpofe  ;  tor  this  is  a  NecefTity, 
*'  not  of  nature  and  ot  tate,  but  ol  fitnefs  and  wifdom  ;  a  Ne- 
*'  cefTity  confident  with  the  greateii  freedom,  and  molt  per- 
*'  \eti  choice.  For  the  only  foundation  of  this  Neceflhy  is 
*'  fuch  an  unalterable  reflitude  ot  Will,  and  perfefction  of 
*'  wifdom,  as  makes  it  impodihle  tor  a  wite  Being  to  a61  fool- 
"  iihly."  Clark's  Demonllration  of  the  Being  and  Attri- 
butes of  God.     Edit.  6,  p.  64. 

"  Though  God  is  a  mod  perfeft  free  Agent,  yet  he  cannot 
*•  but  do  always  what  is  beft  and  wiled  in  the  whole.  The 
**  reaton  is  evident  ;  bccaule  perte6t;  wildom  and  goodnefs 
*•  are  as  deady  and  certain  principles  of  a6tion,  as  NecefTitv 
*'  itfelf ;  and  an  infinitely  wife  and  good  Being,  indued  with 
•'  the  mod  pei[c6l  liberty,  can  no  more  choofe  to  a^  in  con- 


302  Necejfiiy  of  aEl'mg  mojl  wifely,      Part  IV. 

confident  with  the  abfolute  and  mod  perfe6l  fove- 
reignty  of  God.  The  fovereignty  of  God  is  his 
ability  and  authority  to  do  whatever  pleafes  him  ; 
whereby  He  doth  according  to  his  Will  in  the  armies  of 
Heaven,  and  among ji  the  inhabitants  of  the  earih^  and 
none  canjlay  his  hand,  or  fay  unto  him,  zohat  doji  thou  ? 
— The  following  things  belong  to  the  fovereignty  of 
God  ;  viz,  (i.)  Supreme,  Univerfal,  and  Infinite 
Power  ;  whereby  he  is  able  to  do  what  he  pleafes, 
without  control,  without  any  confinement  of  that 
power,  without  any  fubjedion,  in  the  lead  meafure, 
to  any  other  power ;  and  fo  without  any  hinderance 
or  reftraint,  that  it  ftiould  be  either  impoflible,  or 
at  all  difficult,  for  him  to  accomplidi  his  Will ;  and 
without  any  dependence  of  his  power  on  any  other 
power,  from  whence  it  fl:iould  be  derived,  or  which 
it  fhould  dand  in  any  need  of  :  fo  far  from  this, 
that  all  other  power  is  derived  from  him,  and  is  ab- 
lolutely  dependent  on  him.     (2.)  That  He  has  fut^ 

**  tradi6^ion  to  wifdom  and  goodnefs,  than  a  neceflary  agent 
*•  can  a6l  contrary  to  the  NeceiTity  by  which  it  is  a£led  ;  it 
*'  being  as  great  an  abfurdity  and  impofTibiiity  in  choice,  tor 
*'  Infinite  Wifdom  to  choofe  to  a6l  unwifely,  or  Infinite  Good- 
**  nefs  to  choofe  what  is  not  good,  as  it  would  be  in  nature, 
•'  lor  abfolute  Neceflity  to  tail  of  producing  its  necefTary 
*'  eflTeft.  There  was,  indeed, no  NecefTity  in  nature,  that  God 
*•  fhould  at  firfl  create  fuch  beings  as  he  has  created,  or  indeed 
••  any  being  at  all  ;  becaufe  he  is,  in  Himfclf,  infinitely  happy 
••  and  alUfiillicient.  There  was  alto,  no  NecefTity  in  nature, 
*'  that  he  fhould  preferve  and  continue  things  in  being,  alter 
*'  they  were  created  ;  becaufe  he  would  be  lelt-fufFicient  vvith- 
*'  out  their  continuance,  as  he  was  before  their  creation.  But 
*'  it  was  fit  and  wife  and  good,  that  Infinite  Wifdom  fhould 
*'  manifef^,  and  Infinite  Goodnefs  communicate  iifelf  ;  and 
*♦  therefore  it  was  neceffary,  in  the  fenfe  of  Neceflity  1  am 
*'  now  fpeaking  of,  that  things  fhould  be  made  at  fuck  a  time, 
••  and  continued  y^;  long,  and  indeed  with  various  perfeftions 
•*  in  fuch  degrees,  as  Infinite  Wifdom  and  Goodnefs  faw  it 
'•  wifeii  and  befl  that  they  fhould.''     Ibid,  p.  112,  113. 


Se£l.  VII.    agreeable  to  mojl  perfeB  Liberty.  303 

preme  authority  ;  abfolute  and  mofl:  perfe6l  right  to 
do  what  he  Wills,  without  fubjedion  to  any  fupe- 
rior  authority,  or  any  derivation  of  authority 
from  any  other,  or  limitation  by  any  diftin6i;  inde- 
pendent authority,  either  fuperior,  equal,  or  in- 
ferior ;  he  being  the  head  of  all  dominion,  and 
fountain  of  all  authority  ;  and  alfo  without  reflraint 
by  any  obligation,  implying  either  fubjeftion,  deri-  |\ 
vation,  or  dependence,  or  proper  limitation.  (3.) 
That  his  Wdl  is  fupreme,  underived,  and  independ- 
ent on  any  thing  without  Himfelf  ;  being  in  every 
thing  determined  by  his  own  couofel,  having  no 
other  rule  but  his  own  wifdom  ;  his  Will  not  being 
fubje6l  to,  or  reflrained  by  the  Will  of  any  other, 
and  other  Wills  being  perfe6lly  fubje61:  to  his. 
(4.)  That  his  Wifdom^^which  determines  his  Will,  is 
fupreme,  perfect,  underrved,  felf-fufficient  and  in- 
dependent ;  fo  that  it  may  be  faid,  as  in  Ifa.  xl,  14, 
With  whom  took  He  counfel  ?  And  who  injiruded  Him 

*'  Tis  not  a  fault,  but  a  perfeftlon  of  our  nature,  to  defire, 
"  will  and  a6^,  according  to  the  laft  refult  of  a  fair  examina- 
"  lion. — This  is  fo  far  horn  being  a  rellraint  or  diminution 
•'  of  freedom,  that  it  is  the  very  improvement  and  benefit  of 
"  it  :  'tis  not  an  abridgment,  'tis  the  end  and  ufe  of  our  lib- 
•'  erty  ;  and  the  further  we  are  removed  from  fuch  a  determi- 
*'  nation,  the  nearer  we  are  to  mifery  and  flavery.  A  perfeft 
*'  indifference  in  the  mind,  not  determinable  by  its  laft  judg- 
*'  ment,  of  the  good  or  evil  that  is  thought  to  attend  its  choice, 
*'  would  be  fo  tar  from  being  an  advantage  and  excellency  of 
*'  any  intelle6fual  nature,  that  it  would  be  as  great  an  imper- 
*'  fedion,  as  the  want  of  indifferency  to  a61,  or  not  to  a6f,  till 
**  determined  by  the  Will,  would  be  an  imperfetfion  on  the 
**  other  fide. — 'Tis  as  much  a  perfe£lion,  that  defire  or  the 
*'  power  of  preferring  fhould  be  determined  by  good,  as  thit 
"  the  power  of  afting  Ihould  be  determined  by  the  Will  :  and 
"  the  certainer  fuch  determination  is,  the  greater  the  perfec- 
*'  tion.  Nay,  were  we  determined  by  any  thing  but  the  laft 
*'  refult  of  our  own  minds,  judging  of  the  good  or  evil  of  any 
•'  aftion,  we  were  not  free.  This  very  end  of  our  freedom 
*'  being,  that  we  might  attain  the  good  we  choofc  ;  and,  there- 


304  Nccejily  of  ailing  moji  wifely,       Part  IV. 

and,  lau(^Jit  Him  in  the  path  of  juSpnent.  and  taught  Him 
knozvlc'd^e,  and  Jhexotd  him  the  way  of  underjianding  ? 
— There  is  no  other  Divine  Sovereignty  but  this  : 
.nnd  this  is  properly  ahfolute  fovcreignty  :  no  other  is 
defuable  ;  nor  would  any  other  be  honorable,  or 
happy  :  and  indeed,  there  is  no  other  conceivable 
or  poflible.  It  is  the  glory  and  greatnefs  of  the  Di- 
vine Sovereign,  that  God's  Will  is  determined  by 
his  own  infinite  all-fufTicient  wifdom  in  every  thing  ; 
and  in  nothing  at  all  is  either  dirc6led  by  any  infe- 
rior wifdom,  or  bv  no  wifdom  ;  whereby  it  would 
become  fenfelefs  arbitrarinefs,  determining  and  a6l- 
ing  without  reafon,  defign  or  end. 

If  God's  Will  is  fteadily  and  furely  determined 
in  every  thing  by  f up r erne  wifdom,  then  it  is  in  eve- 
Ty  thing  necelfarily  determined  to  that  which  is  mojl 
wife.  And,  certainly,  it  v/ould  be  a  difadvantage 
and  indignity,   to  be  otherwife.     For  if  the  Divine 

*'  fore,  every  man  is  brought  under  a  Nccefllty  by  his  confli- 
"  lution,  as  an  intelligent  being,  to  be  determined  in  willing 
««  by  his  own  thought  and  judgment,  what  is  beft  lor  him  to 
*'  do  ;  elle  be  would  be  under  the  determination  of  feme  other 
*'  than  himfelP,  which  is  want  ot  liberty.  And  to  deny  that  a 
•'  man's  Will,  in  every  determination,  follows  his  own  judg- 
•«  mcnt,  is  to  fay,  that  a  man  wills  and  a£ls  for  an  end  that  he 
«'  would  not  have,  at  the  fame  time  that  he  wills  and  a6ls  tor 
«'  it.  For  if  he  prefers  it  in  his  prefent  thoughis,  before  any 
•'  other,  it  is  plain  he  then  thinks  better  of  it,  and  would  have 
•«  it  belore  any  other  ;  unle's  he  can  have,  and  not  have  it ; 
««  will,  and  not  will  it,  at  the  fame  time  ;  a  contradiction  too 
«'  manifcil  to  be  admitted. — If  we  look,  upon  thofe  fuperior 
•'  bein;Ts  above  us,  who  enjoy  perlt'tl  happinefs,  we  fhall  have 
•»  realon  to  judge,  that  they  are  more  fleadily  determined  in 
«'  their  choice  ot  good  than  we  ;  and  yet  we  have  no  reafon 
»»  to  think  they  are  lefs  happy,  or  lefs  free,  than  we  are.  And 
«♦  it  it  were  fit  tor  fucli  pooi  Hnite  creatures  as  we  are,  to  pfo- 
•'  nounce  what  Infinite  Wifdom  and  Goodnefs  could  do,  I 
•*  think  we  might  lav,  that  God  lumleif  cannot  choofe  what 
•'  is  not  good.  Ihe  freedom  of  the.  Ahmghty  hinders  not  his 
•♦  temg  dettrimned  by  luhal  is  brjl. — But  to  give  a  right  view 


Sea.  VII.       agreeable  to  inojl  perfect  Liberty.         305 

Will  was  not  neccfTarily  determined  to  that,  wlilcii 
in  every  caCe  is  wifeft  and  befl,  it  mud  be  rLibje6l  to 
fome  decree  of  unde^lg^in^  contingence  ;  and  fo  in 
the  fame  decree  liable  to  evil.  To  fuppofe  the  Di- 
vine Will  liable  to  be  carried  hither  and  thither  at 
random,  by  the  uncertain  wind  of  blind  contingence, 
which  is  guided  by  no  wifdom,  no  motive,  no  intel- 
ligent dittate  wharfoever,  (if  any  Inch  thing  were 
poflible)  would  certainly  argue  a  great  degree  of  im- 
perfedion  and  meannefs,  infinitely  unworthy  of  the 
Deity. — li  it  be  a  difadvantage  for  the  Divine  Will  1 
to  be  attended  with  this  mortu  Neceffity,  then  the  1 
more  free  from  it,  and  the  more  left  at  random,  the  \ 

*'  ol  this  rr/i(li.ken  part  o\  liberty,  let  me  a fk.  Would  any  one 
*•  be  a  changeling,  becaufe  he  is  lefs  determined  by  wife  de- 
*'  termination,  than  a  wife  man  ?  Is  it  worih  the  name  oi  tree- 
*'  dom,  to  be  at  libeiiy  to  play  the  iool,  and  draw  Ihame  and 
"  mifery  upon  a  man's  felt  ?  l\  to  break  locfe  hom  the  con- 
"  du6t  of  reafon,  and  to  want  that  leihaint  ol  examination  and 
*'  judgment,  that  kepps  us  from  doing  or  choofing  the  woile, 
•*  be  liberty,  true  iibei'ty,  mad  men  and  tools  are  the  only  irce 
•*  men.  Yet,  I  think,'  no  body  would  choofe  to  be  rnad,  tor 
•'  the  fake  o[  fuch  iibeny,  but  he  that  is  mad  aheady."  Locke^ 
Hum.  Und.  Vol.  I.  X'dit.  7.  p.  21^,  216. 

"  Tiiis  Being,  having  all  things  always  neceiTarily  in  view. 
**  mutt  always,  and  eternally  will,  accoiding  to  his  infinite 
**  comprebenfion  oi  things  ;  that  is,  mult  will  all  things  that 
*'  are  v^ifefl  and  bed  to  be  done.  There  is  no  getting  tree  of 
"  this  confequence.  11  it  can  will  at  lII,  it  mull  will  this  way. 
**  To  be  capable  of  knowing,  and  not  capable  of  willing,  is 
**  not  to  be  undei flood.  And  to  be  capable  of  willing  other- 
"  wife  than  what  is  wifeit  andbeil,  contiaiUtts  that  knov/ledge 
*'  which  is  iniinite.  Infinite  knowledge  mail  direct  the  Will 
*'  without  error.  litre  then,  is  the  ongm  0/  rnorul  KeceJjiLy  ; 
*'  and  that  is  really,  of  jrztdom. — Perhaps  it  niav  be  idid, 
"  when  the  Divine  Will  is  dctei mined,  trom  (lie  confid^vutioii 
"  of  the  eternal  aptiiiuics  of  things,  it  is  as  necafldfiiy  de{?ri- 
*'  mined,  as  it  it  were  phyfically  impelled,  it  that  were  puiTi- 
*'  ble.  But  it  is  unikiiiulnefs,  to  lappoie  this  an  objeaion. 
*'  The  great  pruiciple  is  once  eitabiilhcd,  viz.  That  \\vc  Di- 
•'  vine  Will  is  determined  by  the  elernal  realbn  and  apuuideg 

R  2 


30O  Nccrjfdy  of  acting  mojl  wifely,        Part  IV. 

i  greater  dignity  and  advantage.      And,  confequently 
rtu  be  peiieclly  free  from  the  dire61ion  of  underlland- 
\  ing,  and  univerfally  and  entirely  left  to  fenfeiefs  un- 
;  meaning  contingence,   to  adl  abfolutcly  at  random, 
would  be  the  fupremc  glory. 

It  no  more  argues  any  dependence  of  God's  Will, 
thjt  his  fupremely  wife  volition  is  necelTary,  than  it 
argues  a  dependence  of  his  being,  that  his  exiftence 
is  neceffary.  If  it  be  fomething  too  low,  for  the 
Supreme  Being  to  have  his  Will  determined  by  mor- 
al iVccclRty.  fo  as  necelfarily,  in  every  cafe,  to  Will 
in  the  highell  degree  hoiily  and  happily  ;  then  why 
is  it  not  alfo  fomething  too  loxv,  for  him  to  have  his 
exigence,  and  the  infinite  perfetlion  of  his  nature, 
nnd  his  infinite  happinefs  determined  by  NeceflTity  ? 
It  is  no  more  to  God's  difhonour,  to  be  neceflTariiy 
wife,  than  to  be  necelTarily  holy.  And,  if  neither 
of  them  be  to  his  di (honor,  then  it  is  not  to  his  dif- 
honour neceffarily  to  acl  holily  and  wifely.  And 
if  it  be  not  difhonourable  to  be  necelTarily  holy  and 
wife,  in  the  highefi:  poiTible  degree,  no  more  is  it 
mean  and  diflionourable,  necefl'arily  to  a6l  holily 
and  y^'\{c\y  in  the  highefc  poflfiblc  degree  ;  or,  which 
is  the  fame  thing,  to  do  that,  in  every  cafe,  which, 
above  all  other  things,  is  wifell  and  beft.- 

"  of  things,  inflead  of  being  phyfically  impelled  ;  andaftir 
"  that,  the  more  ftrongand  ncceffary  this  determination  is,  the 
'•  more  per  (eft  the  Deity  mull  be  allowed  to  be  :  it  is  this  that 
'•  m.ikcs  him  an  amiable  and  adorable  Being,  whofe  Will  and 
•*  Power  aie  confUntly,  immutably  determined,  by  the  con- 
•'  fidcration  o\  what  is  wifcft  and  beft  ;  inflead  oi  a  furd  Be- 
•'  ing,  will)  power,  hut  without  difcerning  and  reafon.  It  is 
"  the  kcanty  of  this  NcceJJity,  that  itis  ftrotvr  as  fate  itfelf,  with 
'*'  all  the  aJiantage  of  reafon  and goodnejs. — It  is  ftrange,  to 
"  t'ee  men  contend,  that  the  Deity  is  not  free,  becaufc  he  is 
*'  necelfarily  rational,  immutably  good  and  wife  ;  when  a  man 
•*  is  allowed  Rill  the  perfe61er  bemg,  the  more  fixedly  and 
••  conilantly  his  Will  is  determined  by  reafon  and  truth." 
Enquiry  into  the  Nature  oj  the  Hum.  Soul.  Edit.  3.  Vol.  11. 
p.  403,  404. 


Sc61:.  VII.      no  Meannefs  or  Difadvantase. 


307 


The  reafon,  why  it  is  not  dilhonourable  to  be 
nectlfarily  mrji  holy,  is,  becaufe  holinefs  in  itfelf  is 
an  excellent  and  honourable  thing.  For  the  fame 
reafon,  it  is  no  difhononr  to  be  neceiFarily  rnrjl  wife, 
and,  in  every  cafe,  to  a6i  niofl  wifely,  or  do  the  thing 
which  is  the  wifefl  of  all ;  for  wifdom  is  alfo  in  ir- 
fclf  excellent  and  honourable. 

The  foremcntioned  author  of  the  EJfc'y  on  the 
Freedom  of  Will,  &c.  as  has  been  obferved,  reprefents 
that  doftrine  of  the  Divine  Will's  being  in  every 
thing  ncceffarlly  determined  by  fuperior  fitnefs,  as 
making  the  blelTcd  God  a  kind  of  Almighty  Minifter 
and  mechanical  medium  of  fate  :  and  he  infiRs,  p. 
93,  94,  that  this  moral  Neceffity  and  impofiibility 
is,  in  etre6i;,  the  fame  thing  with  phyiical  and  natural 
NecefFity  and  impofiibility  :  and  in  p.  54,  55,  he 
lays,  '*  The  fcheme  which  determines  the  Will  al- 
*'  ways  and  certainly  by  the  underllanding,  and  the 
^'  underllanding  by  the  appearance  of  things,  feems 
*'  to  take  away  the  true  nature  of  vice  and  virtue. 
*•  For  the  fublimefl  of  virtues,  and  the  vileft  of  vices, 
"  feem  rather  to  be  matters  of  fate  and  Neceffity, 
"  flowing  naturally  and  neceflarily  from  the  exifl- 
*'  ence,  the  circumftances,  and  prefcnt  iituation  of 
*'  perfons  and  things  :  for  this  exiftence  and  Iituation 
*•  neceflarily  makes  fuch  an  appearance  to  the  mind; 
*'  from  this  appearance  flows  a  nccciFary  perception 
"  and  judgment,  concerning  thete  things  ;  this 
'•judgment,  necefTarily  determines  the  Will  :  and 
*'  thus,  by  this  chain  of  neceffary  caufcs,  virtue  and 
*'  vice  would  lofe  their  nature,  and  become  natural 
*•  ideas,  and  neceCTary  thin^^s,  inflead  of  moral  and 
*'  free  a6lions/' 

And  yet  this  fame  author  allows,  p.  30,  31,  That 
a  perfectly  wife  being  will  conflantly  and  certainly 
choofewhat  is  moll  fit  ;  and  fays,  p.  102,  103,  "  I 
*'  grant,  and  always  have  granted,  that   wheicioever 


3o8  Neceffity  of  God's  acting  wifely,     Part  IV. 

**  there  is  fuch  antecedent  fuperior  fitncfs  of  things, 
"  God  a6ls  accordinfT  to  it,  fo  as  never  to  contradi6l 
*'  it ;  and,  particularly  in  all  his  judicial  proceedings 
"  as  a  Governor,  and  Diilributer  of  rewards  and  pun- 
"  ifhmcnts."  Yea,  he  fays  cxprefsly,  p.  42,  "  That 
*'  it  is  not  poiTible  for  God  to  a6l  othevwife,  than  ac- 
*'  cording  to  this  fitnefs  and  goodnefs  in  things." 

So  that  according  to  this  author,  putting  thefe 
feveral  paff^^es  of  this  EiTay  together,  there  is  no  vir- 
iue,  nor  any  thing  of  a  moral  nature,  in  the  molt  fublime 
and  glorious  ads  and  exercifes  of  God's  holinefs, 
judice,  and  faithfulnefs  ;  and  he  never  does  any  thing 
which  is  in  itfelf  fupremely  worthy,  and,  above  all 
other  things,  fit  and  excellent,  but  only  as  a  kind  of 
mechanical  medium  of  fate  ;'  and  in  what  he  does  as 
the  Judge  and  moral  Governor  ojthezvorld,  he  exercifes 
no  moral  excellency  ;  exerciung  no  freedom  in  thefe 
things,  becaufe  he  a6is  by  moral  Neceffity.  v^^hich  is, 
in  effe8:,  the  fame  with  phyfical  or  natural  Neceffity  ; 
<ind,  therefore,  he  only  afts  by  an  Hobiftical iatdiVity  ; 
CIS  a  Being  indeed  oj  vajl  underjlanding,  as  well  as  power 
and  efficiency  (as  he  faid  before)  hut  without  a  Will  to 
choofe,  being  a  kind  of  Almighty  Minijler  oj  Jate^  aViing 
under  its  fiipr erne  iiijluence.  For  he  allows,  that  in  all 
thefe  things,  God's  Will  is  determined-  conRantly 
and  certainly  by  a  fuperior  fitnefs,  and  that  it  is 
not  poffible  for  him  to  att  otherwife.  And  if  thefe 
things  are  fo,  what  glory  or  praife  belongs  to  God 
for  doing  holily  and  juflly,  or  taking  the  moft  fit, 
holy,  wife  and  excellent  courfe,  in  any  one  in- 
llance  ?  Whereas,  according  to  the  Scriptures,  &  alfo 
the  common  fenfe  of  mankind,  it  does  not, in  the  leaft, 
derogate  from  the  honor  of  any  being,  that  through 
the  moral  perlc61ion  of  his  nature,  he  necefl'arily 
atiswith  fupreme  wifdom  and  holinefs  :  but  on  the 
contrary,  his  praife  is  tlie  greater  ;  herein  confifis 
the  height  of  his  glory. 


Sc61:.  VII.     no  Meannefs  or  Difadvantage.  309 

The  fame  author,  p.  56,  fuppofes,  that  herein 
appears  the  exccUent  characier  of  a  wife  and  good 
man,  that  though  h^  can  choofc  contrary  to  the  fitnefs  of 
things,  yet  he  does  not  ;  but  fufjers  himfef  to  be  directed 
by  fitnefs  ;  and  that,  in  this  condu6t,  he  imitates  the 
blejfed  God.  And  yet,  he  fuppofes  it  is  contrariwifc 
with  the  bleffed  God  ;  not  that  he  fuders  himfelf  to 
be  diredled  by  fitnefs,  when  he  can  choofc  contrary  to 
the  fitnefs  of  things,  but  that  he  cannot  choofc  contra>y 
to  the  fitnefs  oj  things  ;  as  he  fays,  p.  42 — That  it  is 
not  poffihle  for  God  to  acl  otherzvife  than  according  to 
this  fitnefs,  where  there  is  any  fitnefs  or  goodnefs  in  things  : 
Yea,  he  fuppofes,  p.  31,  That  if  a  man  were  perfedly 
wife  and  good,  he  could  not  do  otherzoife  than  be  conjiant' 
ly  and  certainly  determined  by  the  fitnefs  of  things. 

One  thing  more  I  would  obferve,  before  I  con- 
clude this  fe6lion  ;  and  that  is,  that  if  it  derogates 
nothing  from  the  glory  of  God,  to  be  neceffarily  de- 
termined by  fuperior  fitnefs  in  fome  things,  then 
neither  does  it  to  be  thus  determined  in  all  things  ; 
from  any  thing  in  the  nature  of  fuch  Necefliry,  as 
at  all  detracting  from  God's  freedom,  independence, 
abfolute  fuprcmacy,  or  any  dignity  or  glory  of  his 
nature,  (late  or  manner  of  a6ling  ;  or  as  implying 
any  infirmity,  reftraint,  or  fubjedion.  And  if  the 
thing  be  fuch  as  well  confifts  with  God's  glory,  and 
has  nothing  tending  at  all  to  detra6l  from  it  ;  then 
we  need  not  be  afraid  of  afcribing  it  to  God  in  too 
many  things,  left  thereby  we  (liould  detra6l  from 
God's  glory  too  much. 


0/ God's  creating  the  World,       Part  IV. 


Section     VIII. 

Some  further  ObjeHions  againjl  the  7noral  NecefTity  of 
God's  Volitions  cojifidered, 

i  HE  author  lafl  cited,  as  has  been  obferved,  owns 
ihat  God,  being  perfectly  wife,  will  conftantly  and 
certainly  chooi'e  what  appears  moft  fit,  where  there 
is  a  fuperior  fitnefs  and  goodnefs  in  things ;  and 
that  it  is  not  pofTible  for  him  to  do  otherwife.  So 
that  it  is  in  efFe6t  confefTed,  that  in  thofe  things 
where  there  is  any  real  preferablcnefs,  it  is  no  dif- 
honor,  nothing  in  any  refpeft  unworthy  of  God, 
for  him  to  a6l  from  Neccflity  ;  notwiihflanding  all 
that  can  be  objeded  from  the  agreement  of  fuch  a^ 
Neceflity,  with  the  fate  of  the  Stoics,  and  the  Ne- 
ceflity  maintained  by  Mr.  Hobbes.  From  which  it 
will  follow,  that  if  it  were  fo,  that  in  all  the  different 
things,  among  which  God  choofes,  there  were  ever- 
more a  fupenor  fitnefs,  or  preferablcnefs  on  one  fide, 
then  it  would  be  no  difhonor,  or  any  thmg,  in  any 
refpeft,  unworthy,  or  unbecoming  of  God,  for  his 
Will  to  be  neceffariiy  determined  in  every  thing. 
And  if  this  be  allowed,  it  is  a  giving  up  entirely  the 
argument,  from  the  unfuitablenefs  of  fach  a  Necef- 
fity  to  the  liberty,  fupremacy,  independence  and 
glory  of  the  Divine  Being  ;  and  a  rcfting  the  whole 
weight  of  the  *ifFair  on  the  decifion  of  another  point 
wholly  diverfe  ;  viz.  Whether  it  be  fo  indeed,  that  in 
all  the  various  poflible  things,  which  are  in  God's 
view,  and  may  be  confidercd  as  capable  obje£ls  of 
his  choice,  there  is  not  evermore  a  preferablcnefs  in 
one  thing  above  another.  This  is  denied  by  this 
author  ;  who  fuppofes,  that  in  many  in  (lances,  be- 
tween two  or  more  poflible  things,  which  come  with- 
in the  view  of  the  Divine  Mind,  there  is  a  perfcd^ 


Sc£l.  Vill.     at  fuch  a  Time  and  Place.  311 

indifFerence  and  equality,  as  to  fitnefs  or  tendency 
to  attain  any  good  end  which  God  can  have  in 
view,  or  to  anfwerany  of  his  defi^^ns.  Now,  there- 
fore, I  would  confider  whether  this  be  evident. 

The  arguments  brought  to  prove  this,  are  of  two 
kinds.  (1.)  It  is  urged,  that  in  many  inflances,  we 
muft  fuppofe  there  is  abfolutely  no  dilFerence  be- 
tween various  pofTibIc  objcds  or  choice,  which  God 
has  in  view  :  and  (2.)  that  the  difference  between 
many  things  is  fo  inconfiderablc,  or  of  fuch  a  nature, 
that  it  would  be  unreafonable  to  luppofe  it  to  be  of 
any  confeqiience;  or  to  fuppofe  that  any  of  God's 
wife  defigns  would  not  be  anfwered  ia  one  way  as 
well  as  the  other. 
Therefore, 

I.  Tke  firfl;  thing  to  beconfidered  is  whether  there 
are  any  inllances  wherein  there  is  a  perfe6i  likcnef'^', 
and  abfolutety  no  difference,  between  different  ob- 
je61s  of  choice,  that  are  propofed  to  the  Divine  Un- 
derftanding  ? 

And  here,  in  the  firfi  place,  it  may  be  worthy  to 
be  confidered,  whether  the  con'iradi^lion  tlicre  is  in 
the  terms  of  the  queftion  propofed,  does  not  give 
reafon  to  fufpcft,  that  there  is  an  inconfiflence  in 
the  thing  fuppofed.  It  is  enquired,  whether  different 
objects  of  choice  may  not  be  abfolute  vjithout  dffcr^ 
ence  P  If  they  are  abfolutely  'cuithout  difference,  then 
how  are  they  dffcrcnt  obje6is  of  choice  ?  If  there 
be  abfolutely  no  dfference,  in  any  refpett,  then  there 
is  no  variety  or  diflmBion  :  for  diQinclion  is  only  by 
fome  difference.  And  if  there  be  no  variety  among 
propofed  objects  of  choice,  then  there  is  no  opportu- 
nity for  variety  of  choice,  or  difference  of  detfrmi- 
nntion.  For  that  determination  of  a  thing,  which 
is  not  different  in  any  refpcd,  is  not  a  dift^rent  de- 
termination, but  the  fame.  That  this  ii,  no  qiiibbje, 
may  appear  more  fully  anon. 


312  0/ God's  creating  the  world,  &c.     Part  IV. 

Th^  arguments,  to  prove  that  the  Mod  High,  in 
fome  inilarices,  choofes  to  do  one  thing  rather  than 
another,  where  the  things  themfelves  are  perfe£lly 
without  difiPerencc,  are  two. 

1.  That  the  various  parts  of  infinite  time  and 
fpace,  abfolutel}'  confidered,  are  perfetlly  ahke, 
and  do  not  ditFer  at  all  one  from  another  :  and 
that  therefore,  when  God  determined  to  create  the 
world  in  (uch  a  part  of  infinite  duration  and  fpace, 
rather  than  others,  he  determined  and  preferred, 
among  various  objefls,  between  which  there  was  no 
preferablenefs,  and  abfolutely  no  difference. 

Anfw.  This  objeftion  fuppofes  an  infinite  length 
of  time  before  the  world  was  created,  diftinguilhed 
by  fucceflive  parts,  properly  and  truly  fo  ;  or  a  fuc- 
ccfiion  of  limited  and  unmeafurabie  periods  of  lime, 
following  one  another,  in  an  infinitely  long  feries  : 
which  mufl;  needs  be  a  groundiefs  imagination.  The 
eternal  duration  which  was  before  the  world,  being 
only  tlie  eternity  of  God's  exigence  ;  which  is  noth- 
ing clfe  but  his  immediate,  peife^i  and  invariable 
poilelhon  of  the  whole  of  his  unlimited  life,  togeth- 
er and  at  once  ;  Vitcc  irderininahilis,  tola,  fimul  'and 
perjecia pojfeffio.  Which  is  fo  generally  allowed,  that 
I  need  not  Hand  to  demonflrate  it.'-" 

*  *  If  all   created  beings  were   taken  away,  all   pofTiblHty 

*  of  any  mutation    or   fucccflion,   of   one    thing  to   another, 

*  would  appear  to  be  alfo   removed.     Abftracl   lucccllion  ia 

*  eternity  is   {carce  to  be  underftood.     What   is    it  that  fuc- 

*  cceds  ?  One  minute  to  another,  perhaps,  vt'ut  unJ^i  juptr- 

*  vcint  udam.     But  when  we  imagirne  this,   we  tariLy  that  the 

*  minutes  are  things  feparately  exiiting.     This  is  the  common 

*  notion  ;   and  yet  it  is  a  maailcll   prejudice.     Time  is   noth- 

*  inj;  uui  the  exiflence  of  created  fuccefhve  bciu^'^s,   and  etcr- 

*  nity   i!ie   ncccflary   exliiencc  of  the  Dcitv.     Tlicrelore,  it 

*  this  iicccHary   being  h;iih  no  change  or  fucccirion  in  his  iia- 

*  turc,  his   cxii*ence  mulf  of  courle  he  unrncccilive.     We 

*  fcciu  10  commit  a  double  ovc:(ighi  in  tiiis  cuie  ;  Jujly  we 


SeQ:.  VIII.     atfuchciTimtandPhcQ.  ^lo 

So  this  obje61ion  fuppoies  an  extent  of  fpace  be- 
yond the  limits  of  the  creation,  of  an  infinite  length, 
breadth  and  depth,  truly  and  properly  didinguifhcd 
into  diiFerent  meafurable  parts,  limited  at  certair> 
flages,  one  beyond  another,  in  an  inlinite  feries. 
Which  notion  of  abfolute  and  infinite  fpace  is  doubt- 
]g[s  as  unreafonable,  as  that  now  mentioned,  of  ab- 
folute and  infinite  duration.  It  is:  as  itnproper  to 
imagine  that  the  immenfity  and  ornniprefence  of 
God  is  diuinguiflied  by  a  feries  of  miles  and  leagues, 
one  beyond  another;  as  that  the  infinite  duration  of 
God  is  diflinguiihed  by  months  and  years,  one  af» 
ter  another.  A  diyerfiry  and  order  of  dfflin6l  parts^ 
limited  by  certain  periods,  is  as  conceivable,  and 
does  as  naiurally  obtrude  iifelf  on  our  imagination, 

*  find  fucceflion  in  the  necelTary  nature  and  exiflence  of  th;^ 

*  Deity  himfelf  :   which  is  wrong,    if   the  realbning  above  be 

*  conclufive.     And  then  we  afcjibe  this  fuccefTioa  to  eternity, 

*  confidered  abflraftedly  from  ihe  Eternal   Being;  and  fup- 

*  pofe  it,  one  knows  not  what,  a  thing  fubfifting  by  itfelf,  and 

*  flowing  one  rninnte  after  another.  -  This  is  the  wjikof  pure 

*  imagination,    and  contrary  to  the  reality  of  things.      Hence 

*  the   common   metaphorical   ejcprefTions  ;   Tims  rifJis  a-pace, 

*  /.;/  us  lay  hold  on  the  pre/ent  minute,  and  the  like.     The  phi- 

*  ioGjijhers  themfelves  miflead  us  by  their  illuliration.     They 

*  compare  eternity  to  the  motion  oi^^   a  point  running  on   for 

*  ever,  and  making  a  tracelefs  infinite  line,      He-e  tlie  point  is 

*  iuppofed  a  thing  actually  lubfilUng,  reprefenting  the  prefent 
•minute;  and   then  they   afcribe  motion  or  fucceflion  to  it  : 

*  that  is,  they  afcribe-raotion  to  a  mere  nonentity,  to  illaftrate  . 

*  to  us  a  fuccefTjve  eternity,  made  up  of  finite  fuccefTive  parts. 

*  If  once  we  adow  an  alUptrtett  mind,  which  hath  an  eternal, 

*  immutable  and  infinite  comprchenfion  of  all  things,  always 

*  (and  allow  it  we  mull)  the  diiiin6iion  of  pall  and  future  van- 

*  ifhes  with  lefpecl  to  fuch  a  mind. — In  a  word,    if   wc   pro- 

*  cced  flep  by  Hep,  as  above,  the  eternity  or  exiflence  of  the 
'  Dciiv  will  appear  to  be  VtUe  inter minabllis,   tota,  Jimul  & 

*  perjccia  po/pjjio  ;  how  much  foever  iliis  n).yy   have    been  a 

*  paradox  huijerto."     Enquiry  into  the  Nature  of  the  IIumai% 
Soul.     Vol.  II,  409,  4:0,  411.    Edit  3. 

S2 


3^4  0/ God's  placing  di^crently         Part  IV. 

in  one  cafe  rs  the  other  ;  and  there  as  equal  reafon 
in  each  cafe,  to  fiippofe  that  our  imagination  de- 
ceives us.  It  is  equally  improper  to  talk  of  months 
andj^earsof  the  Divine  Exiftence,  and  mile-fquaresof 
Deity  :  and  we  equally  deceive  ourfelves,  when  we 
talk  of  the  world's  being  differently  fix'd  with  refpecl 
to  either  of  thefe  forts  of  meafures.  I  think,  we 
know  not  what  we  mean,  if  we  fay,  the  world  might 
have  been  differently  placed  from  what  it  is,  in  the 
broad  expanfe  of  infinity  :  or,  that  it  might  have 
been  differently  fixed  in  the  long  line  of  eternity  : 
and  all  arguments  and  obje6lions,  which  are  built  on 
the  imaginations  we  are  apt  to  have  of  infinite  exten- 
fion  or  duration,  are  buildings  founded  on  (hadows, 
or  caftles  in  the  air. 

2.  The  fecond  argument,  to  prove  that  the  Mod 
High  wills  one  thing  rather  than  another,  without 
any  fuperior  fitnefs  or  preferabieneis  in  the  thing 
preferred,  is  God's  actually  placing  in  different  parts 
of  the  world,  particles,  or  atoms  of  matter,  that  are 
perfeftly  equal  and  alike.  The  forementioned  au- 
thor fays,  p.  78,  &c.  "  If  one  would  defcend  to  the 
**  minute  fpecific  particles,  of  which  different  bodies 
*'  are  compofed,  we  ffiould  fee  abundant  reafon  to 
*'  believe,  that  there  are  thoufands  of  fuch  little  par- 
**  tides,  or  atoms  of  matter,  which  are  perfectly  equal 
**  and  alike,  and  could  give  no  diftin6l  determina- 
**  tion  to  the  Will  of  God,  where  to  place  them." 
He  there  inftances  in  particles  of  water,  of  which 
there  are  fuch  immenfe  numbers,  which  compofe 
the  rivers  and  oceans  of  this  world  ;  and  the  infinite 
myriads  of  the  luminous  and  fierv  particles,  which 
compofe  the  body  of  the  Sun  ;  fo  many,  that  it 
would  be  very  unreafonable  to  fuppofe  no  two  of 
them  (hould  be  exa6lly  equal  and  alike. 

Anfzu.  (1.)  To  this  I  anfwcr  :  tliat  as  we  muff  fup- 
pofe matter  to  be  infinitely  divifible,  it  is  very  un- 
likely, that  any  two,  of  all  thefe  panicles,  are  exa6l- 


Sea.  VIII.  ^mihr  Particles.         "  315 

ly  equal  and  alike  ;  To  unl'kely,  that  it  is  a  thoufand 
to  one,  yea,  an  infinite  number  to  one,  but  it  is  oth- 
erwiCe  :  and  that  although  we  fhould  allow  a  great 
fimilaiity  between  the  dilTerent  parricles  of  water 
and  lire,  as  to  their  general  nature  and  figure;  and 
however  fmall  we  fuppofe  thole  particles  to  be,  it  is 
infinitely  unlikely,  that  any  two  of  them  fhould  be 
exactly  equal  in  dimenfions  and  quantity  of  matter. 
If  we  fhould  fuppofe  a  great  many  globes  of  the  fame 
nature  with  the  globe  of  the  earth,  it  would  be  very 
flrange,  if  there  were  any  two  of  them  that  had  ex- 
actly the  fame  number  of  particles  of  duft;  and  water 
in  them.  But  infinitely  lefs  ftrange,  than  that  two 
particles  of  light  fhould  have  juft  the  fame  quantity 
of  matter.  For  a  panicle  of  light,  according  to  the 
doftrine  of  the  infinite  divifibility  of  matter,  is  com- 
pofed  of  infinitely  more  affignable  parts,  than  there 
are  particles  of  duft  and  water  in  the  globe  of  the 
earth.  And  as  it  is  infinitely  unlikely,  that  any  two 
of  thefe  particles  fliould  be  equal;  fo  it  is,  that  they 
Ihould  be  alike  in  other  refpeds  :  to  inftance  in  the 
configuration  of  their  furfaces.  If  there  were  very 
many  globes,  of  the  nature  of  the  earth,  it  would  be 
very  unlikely  that  any  two  fhould  have  exa6lly  the 
fame  number  of  particles  of  duft,  water  and  ftone, 
in  their  furfaces,  and  ail  pofiied  exaftly  alike,  one 
with  refpecl  to  another,  without  any  difference,  in 
any  part  difcernable  either  by  the  naked  eye  or  mi- 
crofcope  ;  but  infinitely  lefs  ftrange,  than  that  two 
particles  of  light  fiiould  be  perfedly  of  the  fame 
figure.  For  there  are  infinitely  more  affignable  real 
parts  on  the  fuiface  of  a  particle  of  light,  than  there 
are  particles  of  duft,  water  and  flone,  on  the  furface 
of  the  terreftrial  Globe. 

Anfiv,  (2.)  But  then,  fuppofmg  that  there  are  two 
particles,  or  atoms  of  matter,  pevfedly  equal  and  a- 
like,  which  God  has  placed  in  different  parts  of  the 
creation  ;  as  I  will  not  deny  it  to  be  pofiible  for  God 


3i6  0/ God's  placing  (I'l^erently        Part  IV. 

to  make  two  bodies  perfe6liy  alike,  and  put  them  in 
difFerent  places  ;  yet  it  will  not  follow,  that  two  dif- 
ferent or  diflintl  acts  or  effecls  of  the  Divine  Power 
have  exadtly  the  fame  fitnefs  for  the  fame  ends.  For 
thefe  two  different  bodies  are  not  difFerent  or  diftinft, 
in  any  other  refpetls  than  thofe  wherein  they  differ : 
they  are  two  in  no  other  refpeSls  than  thofe  wherein 
there  is  a  diffc^rence.  If  they  are  perfeQly  equal  and 
alike  in  thcmfclvcs,  then  they  can  be  diftinguifhed,  or 
be  diflin6l;,  "only  in  tJiofe  things  which  are  called  C2?-- 
cumjiances  ;  as  place,  tims,  reft,  motion,  or  fome  oth- 
er prefent  or  paft  circumftances  or  relations.  For  it 
is  difference  only  that  conftitutes  dillinQion.  If 
God  makes  two  bodies,  in  themfelves  every  way  equal 
and  alike,  and  agreeing  perfedly  in  all  other  circum- 
ftances and  relations,  but  only  their  place ;  then  in 
this  only  is  their  any  diftinQion  or  duplicity.  The 
figure  is  the  fame,  the  meafure  is  the  fame,  the  fo- 
lidity  and  refiflancd  are  the  fame,  and  every  thing 
the  fame,  but  only  the  place.  Therefore  what  the 
Will  of  God  determines,  is  this,  namely,  that  there 
Ihould  be  the  fame  figure,  the  (ame  extenfion,  the 
.fame  re fi fiance,  &c,  in  two  difFerent  places.  And 
for  this  determination  he  has  fome  reafon.  There 
is  fome  end,  for  which  fuch  a  determination  and  a61: 
has  a  peculiar  fitncfs,  above  all  other  a6ls.  Here  is 
no  one  thing  determined  without  an  end,  and  no  one 
thing  without  a  fitnefs  for  that  end,  fuperior  to  any 
thing  elfe.  If  it  be  the  pleafure  of  God  to  caufe  the 
fame  refiftance,  and  the  fame  figure,  to  be  in  two 
different  places  and  fituations,  we  can  no  more  jufl- 
]y  argue  from  it,  that  here  muft  be  fome  determina- 
tion or  a6t  of  God's  Will,  that  is  v/holly  without  mo- 
tive or  end,  then  we  can  argue,  that  whenever,  in 
any  cafe  it  is  a  man's  Will  to  fpeak  the  fajiie  words, 
or  make  the  fame  founds  at  two  different  times; 
there  mufl  be  fome  determination  or  a61  of  Jns  Will, 


'  Se6l.  VIII.  rimU3.r  Pariicles.  317 

without  any  motive  or  end.  The  difFcvence  cf  place, 
in  the  former  cafe,  proves  no  more  than  the  dilFcr- 
ence  of  time  does  in  the  other.  If  any  one  fhould 
fay,  v/ith  regard  to  the  former  cate,  that  there  niuft 
be  fomething  without  an  tud,  viz.  that  of  thofe  t'.vo 
fimilar  bodies,  this  in  pariicuiar  fhould  be  made  ia 
this  place,  and  the  other  in  the  other,  and  ftioaid  in- 
quire, why  the  Creator  did  not  make  them  in  a  tranf- 
pofition,  vvheii  both  arc  alike,  and  each  would  equal- 
ly have  fuited  either  place  ?  The  inquiry  fuppofes 
fomething  that  is  not  true,  namely,  that  the  two  bo- 
dies differ  and  are  diflm*'^  in  other  refpeds  befides 
their  place.  So  that  with  this  diflintlion,  inherent 
in  them,  they  might,  in  their  fiifl  creation, have  been 
tranfpofed,  and  each  might  \\d\Q.  begun  its  exiftence 
in  the  place  of  the  other. 

Let  us,  for  clearntfii  fake,  fuppofe,  that  God  had, 
at  the  beginning,  made  two  globes,  each  of  an  inch 
diameter,  both  pcrfe6l  fpheres,  and  peifedly  folid, 
without  pores,  and  perfectly  alike  in  every  refpe6i, 
and  placed  them  near  one  to  another,  one  tov/ards 
the  right  hand,  and  the  other  towards  the  left,  with- 
out iiny  difference  as  to  time,  niofion  or  reil,  pafl  or 
prefent,  or  any  circumftance,  but  only  their  place  ; 
and  the  queltion  (hould  be  afked,  why  God  in  their 
creation  placed  them  fo  ?  Why  that  which  is  made 
on  the  right  hind,  v/as  not  made  on  the  lefc,  ancj 
vice  verfa  ?  Let  it  be  v;ell  coniidered,  whether  there 
be  any  fcnfc  in  fuch  a  queftion  ;  and  whether  the 
inquiry  does  not  fuppofe  fomething  falfe  and  ab- 
furd.  Let  it  be  confidered,  what  the  Creator  mufi; 
have  done  otherwife  than  he  did,  what  different  a61: 
of  Will  or  power  he  mufl  have  exerted,  in  order  to 
the  thing  propofed.  All  that  could  have  been  done, 
would  have  been  to  have  made  two  fpheres,  perfeCl- 
]y  alike,  in  the  fame  places  where  he  has  made  them, 
wiihout  any  difference  of  the  things  made,  cither  in 


3i8      0/GoDS  choofmg  amojig  like  Things,     P.  IV. 

themfelves  or  in  any  circumftance  ;  fo  that  the  whole 
eflPeft  would  have  been  without  any  difference,  and, 
therefore,  juft  the  fame.  By  the  fuppofition,  the 
two  fpheres  are  different  in  no  other  refpe6l  but 
their  place  :  and  therefore  in  nso  other  refpeds  they 
are  the  fame.  Each  has  the  fame  roundnefs  ;  it  is 
not  a  diftind  rotundity,  in  any  other  refpeft  but  its 
fituation.  There  are,  alfo,  the  fame  dimenfions,  dif- 
fering in  nothing  but  their  place.  And  fo  of  their 
refiftance,  and  every  thing  elfe  that  belongs  to  them. 
Here,  if  any  choofes  to  fay,  *'that  there  is  a  dif- 
ference in  another  refpeft,  viz.  that  they  are  not 
NUMERICALLY  the  fame  :  that  is  thus  with  all 
the  qualities  that  belong  to  them  :  that  it  is  confeffed 
they  are,  in  fome  refpe6ls,  the  fame ;  that  is,  they 
are  both  exa6lly  alike ;  but  yet  numerically  they  dif- 
fer. Thus  the  roundnefs  of  one  is  not  the  fame  nu^ 
merical  individual  roundnefs  with  that  of  the  other." 
Let  this  be  fuppofed  ;  then  the  queflion  about  the 
determination  of  the  Divine  Will  in  the  affair,  is, 
why  did  God  Will,  that  this  individual  roundnefs 
Hiould  be  at  the  right  hand,  and  the  other  individual 
roundnefs  at  the  left  ?  Why  did  not  he  make  them  in 
a  contrary  pofition  ?  Let  any  rational  pei  fon  conlid- 
er,  whether  fuch  queftions  be  not  words  without  a 
meaning ;  as  much  as  if  God  (hould  fee  fit  for  fome 
ends,  to  caufe  the  fame  founds  to  be  repeated,  or 
made  at  tvvo  different  times ;  the  founds  being  per- 
fe6tly  the  fame  in  every  other  rerpe6t,  but  only  one 
was  a  minute  after  the  other  •  and  it  fhould  be  aflced, 
upon  it,  why  God  caufcd  thefe  founds,  numericallv 
different,  to  fuccecd  one  the  other  in  fuch  a  manner  ? 
Why  he  did  not  make  that  individual  found,  which 
was  in  tlie  fiirt  minute,  to  be  in  the  fecond  ?  And 
the  individual  found  of  the  laff  minute  to  be  in  the 
firil ;  which  inquiries  would  be  even  ridiculous  ;  as, 
1  think,  every  pcrfon  mull  fee,  at  once,  in  the  cafe 


Sc£l.  VIII.     and  Things  o/" trivial  D'lfferenu.        319 

propofed  of  two  founds,  being  only  the  fame  repeat- 
ed, abfolutely  without  any  difFerence,  but  that  one 
circumllance  of  time.  If  the  Mofl  High  fees  it  will 
anfwer  fome  good  end,  that  the  fame  found  fhould 
be  made  by  lightning  at  two  di[lin6i  times,  and 
therefore  Wills  that  it  fhould  be  lb,  muft  it  needs 
therefore  be,  that  herein  there  is  fome  a6l  of  God's 
Will  without  any  motive  or  end  ?  God  faw  fit  of- 
ten, at  diflin6l  times,  and  on  different  occafions,  to 
fay  the  very  fame  words  to  Mofes,  namely,  thofe,  / 
am  Jehovah.  And  would  it  not  be  unreafonable  to 
infer,  as  a  certain  confcquence,  from  this,  that  here 
muft  be  fome  acl  or  ads  of  the  Divine  Will,  in  de- 
termining and  difpofmg  thefe  words  exaQly  alike, 
at  different  times  wholly  without  aim  or  induce- 
ment ?  But  it  would  be  no  more  unreafonable  than 
to  fay,  that  there  muft  be  an  a61;  of  God's  without 
any  inducement,  if  he  fees  ic  beft,  and,  for  fome 
reafons,  determines  that  there  ftiall  be  the  fame  re- 
fiftance,  the  fame  dimenfions,  and  the  Tame  figure, 
in  feveral  diftindl  places. 

If,  in  the  inftance  of  the  two  fpheres,  perfe6lly 
alike,  it  be  fuppofed  poffible  that  God  might  have 
made  them  in  a  contrary  pofition ;  that  which  is 
made  at  the  right  hand,  being  made  at  the  left ;  then 
I  aflc,  Whether  it  is  not  evidently  equally  poffible, 
if  God  had  made  but  one  of  them,  and  that  in  the 
place  of  the  right  hand  globe,  that  he  might  have 
made  that  numerically  different  from  what  it  is,  and 
numerically  different  from  what  he  did  make  it ; 
though  perfedly  alike,  and  in  the  fame  place:  and 
at  the  fame  time,  and  in  every  refpe6l,  in  the  fame 
circumftances  and  relations  ?  Namely,  Whether  he 
might  not  have  made  it  numerically  the  fame  with 
that  which  he  has  now  made  at  the  left  hand;  and 
fo  have  left  that  which  is  now  created  at  the  right 
hand,  in  a  ftate  of  non-exiftence?  And,  if  fo,  wheth- 


320       Of  Gods  choofing  among  like  7hings,     P.  IV. 

er  it  would  not  have  been  poffible  to  have  made 
one  in  that  place,  perfe6tly  like  ihcfe,  and  yei  nu- 
merically differing  from  both  ?  And  let  it  be  con- 
lidered,  whether,  from  this  notion  of  a  numerical 
difference  in  bodies,  perfe6ily  equal  and  alike,  which 
numerical  difference  is  fomething  inherent  in  the  bo- 
dies themfelves,  and  diverle  from  the  difference  of 
place  or  time,  or  any  circumffance  whatfoever;  it 
will  not  follow,  that  there  is  an  infinite  number  of 
numerically  different  poilible  bodies,  perfe6lly  alike, 
among  which  God  chocfes,  by  a  felf- determining 
power,  when  he  goes  about  to  create  bodies. 

Therefore  let  us  put  the  cafe  thus  :  fuppofing  that 
God,  in  the  beginning,  had  created  but  one  perfe6l- 
ly  folid  fphere,  in  a  certain  place;  and  it  fliould  be 
inquired,  Why  God  created  that  individual  fphere, 
in  that  place,  at  that  time?  And  why  he  did  not 
create  another  fphere  perfc6lly  like  it,  but  numeri- 
cally dilFerent,  in  the  fame  place,  at  the  fame  time  ? 
Or  why  he  chofc  to  bring  into  being  there,  that  ve- 
ry body,  rather  than  any  of  the  infinite  number  of 
other  bodies,  perfeQly  like  it  ;  either  of  v/hich  he 
.could  have  made  there  as  well,  and  would  have  an- 
fwcrcd  his  end  as  v;ell?  Why  he  caufed  to  exift,  at 
that  place  and  time,  that  individual  loundnefs,  rath- 
er than  any  other  of  the  infinite  number  of  individ- 
ual rotundities  juff  like  it  ?  Why  that  individual 
refj fiance,  rather  than  any  other  of  the  infinite  num.- 
.  bcr  of  poflible  refinances  jull  like  it  ?  And  it  might 
\  as  leafonably  be  adsed,  Why,  when  God  fiiR  caufed 
\  it  to  thunder,  he  caufed  that  individual  found  then 
lo  be  made,  and  not  another  jufl  like  it  ?  W"hy  did 
lie  make  choice  of  this  very  lound,  and  rejecl  all  the 
infinite  number  of  other  poffible  founds  jufl  like  it, 
but  numerically  differing  from  it,  and  all  differing 
one  from  another  ?  I  tliink,  cveiy  body  mull  be  fen- 
fibl'j  of  the  abfuidii}'  and  nonlenle  ul  v.  lut  is  fuppof- 


Sc6l.  VIII.     and  Things  of  trivial  Bijercnce,       321 

ed  in  fuch  enquiries.  Anr],  if  we  calmly  attcn';]  to 
the  matter,  we  (hill  be  convinced,  thaf:  all  fuch  kind 
of  objetiiions  as  1  am  anfwering,  are  founded  on 
nothing  but  the  inipeifedion  of  our  m;inner  of  con- 
ceiving things,  and  the  obfcurenefs  of  language,  and 
great  want  of  cleaniefs  and  prccilion  in  the  fignifica- 
lion  of  terms. 

If  any  (liall  find  fault  with  this  reafoning,  that  it 
is  going  a  great  length  into  metaphyseal  niceties  and 
fubtihies ;  I  anfwer,  the  obje6iion  which  they  are  in 
reply  to,  is  a  metaphyficai  fubtilty,  and  mud  be  treat- 
ed according  to  the  nature  of  it.'^* 

II.  Another  thing  ailedged  is,  that  innumerable 
things  which  are  determined  by  the  Divine  Will,  and 
chofen  and  done  by  God  rather  than  others,  differ 
from  thole  that  are  not  chofen  in  fo  inconliderable  a 
manner,  that  it  would  be  unreafonable  to  fuppofe 
the  difference  to  be  of  any  conlequence,  or  that  there 
is  any  fuperior  fitnefs  or  goodnei's,  that  God  can 
have  refpecl  to  in  the  determination. 

To  which  I  anfwer;  it  is  impodible  for  us  to  de- 
termine, with  any  certainty  or  evidence,  that  becaufe 
the  difference  is  very  fmall,  and  appears  to  us  of  no 
confideration,  therefore  there  is  ablolutely  no  fupe- 
rior goodnefs,  and  no  valuable  end,  which  can  be 
propofed  by  the  Creator  and  Governor  of  the  world, 
in  ordering  fuch  a  difference.  The  forementioned 
author  mentions  many  inftances.  One  is,  there  be- 
ing one  atom  in  the  whole  univerfe  more  or  lefs. 
But,  I  think,  it  would  be  unreafonable  to  fuppofe, 
that  God  made  one  atom  in  vain,  or  without  any 
end  or  motive.  He  made  not  one  atom,  but  what 
was  a  woik  of  his  Almighty  Power,  as  much  as  the 

*  ••  For  men  to  have  recourfe  to  fubtlUies,  in  raifing  dlffi- 
**  cuhies,  and  then  complain,  that  they  fhoiild  be  taken  off  by 
**  minutely  examining  thefe  fubtihies,  is  a  ftrange  kind  of 
*' procedure."     Nature  of  the  Human  Sou!,  vol.  2.  p.  ^'^i* 

T2 


522    0/ God's  chocfing  among  (mall  Matters,    P.  IV. 

whole  globe  of  the  earth,  and  requires  as  much  of  a 
conftant  exertion  of  Almighty  Power  to  uphold  it; 
and  was  made  and  is  upheld  underftandingly,  and 
on  defign,  as  much  as  if  no  other  had  been  made  but 
that.  And  it  would  be  as  unreafonable  to  fuppofe, 
that  he  m  Ade  it  without  any  thing  really  aimed  at  in 
fo  doing,  as  much  as  to  fuppofe,  that  he  made  the 
planet  Jupiter  without  aim  or  defign. 

It  is  poffib'e,  that  the  mofl:  minute  efFe6ls  of  the 
Creator's  power,  the  fmallefl  aflignable  difFerence  be- 
tween the  things  which  God  has  made,  may  be  at- 
tended, in  the  whole  feries  of  events,  and  the  whole 
compafs  and  extent  of  their  influence,  with  very  greaC 
and  important  confequences.  If  the  laws  of  motion 
and  gravitation,  laid  down  by  Sir  I faac  Newton,  hold 
univerfally,  there  is  not  one  atom,  nor  the  leafh  af- 
Cgnable  part  of  an  atom,  but  what  has  influence, 
every  moment,  throughout  the  whole  material  uni- 
verfe,  to  caufe  every  part  to  be  otherwife  than  it 
would  be,  if  it  were  not  for  that  particular  corporeal 
exiftence.  And  however  the  effe£t  is  infenfible  for 
the  prefent,  yet  it  may,  in  length  of  time,  become 
great  and  important. 

To  illuftrate  this,  let  us  fuppofe  two  bodies  mov- 
ing the  fame  v/ay,  in  fl:raight  lines,  perfedly  parallel 
one  to  another ;  but  to  be  diverted  from  this  parallel 
courfe,  and  drawn  one  from  another,  as  much  as 
might  be  by  the  attra6kion  of  an  atom,  at  the  diftance 
of  one  of  the  furthefl,  of  the  fixed  fl;ars  from  the  earth ; 
thefe  bodies  being  turned  out  of  the  lines  of  their  par- 
allel motion,  will,  by  degrees,  get  further  and  further 
diftant,  one  from  the  other;  and  though  the  diftance 
may  be  imperceptible  for  a  long  time,  yet  at  length 
it  may  become  very  great.  So  the  revolution  of  a 
planet  round  the  fun  being  retarded  or  accelerated, 
and  the  orbit  of  its  revolution  made  greater  or  lefs, 
»nd  more  or  lefs  elliptical,  and  fo  its  periodical  time 


3e6l.  VIII.  Ncceffity  confijlent  with  iito.  Grace,    323 

longer  or  Oiorter,  no  more  than  may  be  by  the  influ- 
ence of  the  leaft  atom,  might,  in  length  of  time,  per- 
form a  whole  revolution  fooner  or  later  than  other- 
ivife  it  would  have  done  ;  which  might  make  a  vaft 
alteration  with  regard  to  millions  of  important  events. 
So  the  influence  of  the  Icafl.  particle  may,  for  ought 
we  know,  have  fuch  efFe6l  on  fomething  in  the  con- 
flitution  of  fome  human  body,  as  to  caufe  another 
thought  to  aiife  in  the  mind  at  a  certain  time,  than 
otherwife  would  have  been  ;  v/hich,  in  length  of 
time,  (yea,  and  that  not  very  great)  might  occafion 
a  vafl;  alteration  through  the  whole  world  of  man- 
kind. And  fo  innumerable  other  v/ays  might  be 
mentioned,  wherein  the  leafl:  affignable  alteration 
may  poflibly  be  attended  with  great  confequences. 

Another  argument,  which  the  forementioned  author 
brings  againft  a  necelTary  determination  of  the  Di- 
vine Will,  by  a  fuperior  htnefs,  is,  that  fuch  doc-  , 
trine  derogates  from  the  frtenefs  of  God's  grace  and 
goodnefs,  in  choofmg  the  objedls  of  his  favour  and 
bounty,  and  from  the  obligation  upon  men  to  thank- 
fulnefs  for  fpecial  benefits.      P.  89,  ^c. 

In  anfwer  to  this  obje6lion,  I  would  obferve, 
1.  That  it  derogates  no  more  from  the  goodnefs 
of  God,  to  fuppofe  the  exercife  of  the  benevolence 
of  his  nature  to  be  determined  by  wifdom,  than  to 
fuppofe  it  determined  by  chance^  and  that  his  favours 
are  beflowed  altogether  at  random,  his  Will  being 
determined  by  nothing  but  perfe6i  accident,  without 
any  end  or  defign  whatfoever ;  which  mufl;  be  the 
cafe,  as  has  been  demonftrated,  if  volition  be  not  de- 
termined  by  a  prevailing  motive.  That  which  i» 
owing  to  perfeft  contingence,  wherein  neither  pre- 
vious inducement,  nor  antecedent  choice  has  any 
hand,  is  not  owing  more  to  goodnefs  or  benevolence, 
than  that  which  is  owing  to  the  influence  of  a  wife 
end. 


324      NeCcITity  confijlent  with  free  Grace,     Part  IV. 

2,  It  is  acknowledgecl,  that  if  the  motive  that  de- 
termines the  Will  of  God,  in  the  cliuice  of  the  obje6ls 
of  his  favours,  be  any  moral  quahty  in  the  object:, 
recorninending  that  obje6l  to  his  benevolence  above 
others,  his  choclirig  that  objr6l  is  not  fo  great  a  man- 
ifeitationof  the  freenefsand  lovereignty  of  his  grace, 
as  if  it  vveie  otheruife.  But  there  is  no  NeceQicy  of 
fuppofing  this,  in  order  to  oar  fuppoling  that  he  has 
fome  wife  end  in  view,  in  determining  to  beltovv  his 
favours  on  one  perfon  rather  than  another.  We  are 
to  difl-inauifh  between  the  merit  of  the  ohjeB  of  God's 
favour^  or  a  moral  qualihcation  of  the  object  attraQ:- 
ing  that  favour  and  recommending  to  it,  and  the 
natural  Jitnefs  of  fuch  a  determination  of  the  aJl  of  God's 
goodntjs,  to  aiifwer  fome  wife  defign  of  his  own,  fome 
end  in  the  view  of  God's  omnifcience.  It  is  God's 
own  a6t,  that  is  the  proper  and  immediate  object  of 
his  volition, 

3.  I  fuppofe  that  none  will  deny,  but  that,  in  fome 
initances,  God  2idiS  from  wife  defign  in  determining 
the  particular  fubje6^s  of  his  favours :  none  wiil  fay, 
I  prefume,  that  when  God  diftinguilhes,  by  his  boun- 
ty, particular  focieties,  or  perfons,  Me  never,  in  any 
inRancc,  exercifes  any  wifdom  in  fo  doing,  aiming 
at  fome  happy  confequence.  And,  if  it' be  not  de- 
nied to  be  fo  in  fome  m fiances,  then  I  would  enquire, 
whether,  in  ihefe  inflances,  God's  goodnefs  is  \th 
manifeilcd,  than  in  thofe  wherein  God  has  no  aim  or 
end  at  all  ?  And  whether  the  fubjeds  have  lefs  caufe 
of  thankfulnefs  ?  And  if  fo,  who  fhall  be  thankful 
for  the  bellowment  of  diflinguifliing  mercy,  wirh  that 
enhancing  circumftance  of  the  diflindtion's  being 
made  without  an  end  ?  How  fnail  it  be  known  when 
God  is  ii.flurnced  by  feme  wife  aim,  and  when  not? 
It  is  very  manifeft,  with  rcfped  to  the  Apolfle  Paul, 
that  God  had  wife  ends  in  choofing  him  to  be  a 
chriRian  and  an  Apoflle,  who  had  been  a  perfecutor, 


Se£l.  VIII.         Of  Arminian  Fatality.  325 

Sec.  The  Apoftleliimfelf  mentions  one  end.  1  Tim. 
i.  15,  16.  Chrijl  Jefus  came  into  the  world  to  Javcfin^ 
nets,  vfwhom  I  am  chief.  Ilozvheit,  for  this  canfe  I cb- 
tained  mercy,  that  in  rnefiyjl,  Jefus  Chrift  vii^ht  Jhcro 
forth  all  long-fujfering,  for  a  pattern  to  them  who  Jhould 
hereafter  believe  on  Ilim  to  life  everlajling.  But  yet  ihe 
Apoille  never  looked  on  it  as  a  diminution  of  the 
freedom  and  riches  of  Divine  Grace  in  his  election, 
which  he  fo  often  and  lo  greatly  magnihes.  This 
brings  me  to  obferve, 

4.  Our  fuppofing  fuch  a  moral  neceffity  in  the 
a6ls  of  God's  Will,  as  has  been  fpoken  of,  is  fo  far 
from  necelFarily  derogating  from  the  riches  of  God's 
grace  to  fuch  as  are  the  chofen  objeds  of  his  favour, 
that,  in  many  inftances,  this  moral  neceffity  may 
arife  from  goodnefs,  and  from  the  great  degree  of  it. 
God  may  choofe  this  objeQ  rather  than  another,  as 
having  a  fuperior  fitnefs  to  anlwer  the  ends,  defigns 
and  inclinations  of  his  goodnefs  ;  being  more  finiul, 
and  fo  more  miierable  and  neceiTitous  than  others; 
the  inclinations  of  Infinite  Mercy  and  Benevolence 
may  be  more  gratified,  and  the  gracious  defign  of 
God's  fending  his  Son  into  the  world,  may  be  more 
abundantly  anfwered,  in  the  exercifes  of  mercy  to- 
wards fuch  an  objedl;,  rather  than  another. 

One  thing  more  I  would  obferve,  before  I  finidij 
wbat  I  have  to  fay  on  the  head  of  the  Neceffity  of! 
the  a6h  of  God's  Will  ;  and  that  is,  that  fomethingj 
much  more  like  a  fervile  fubjedion  of  the  Divine' 
Being  to  fatal  Neceffity,  will  follow  from  Arr/iinia^^ 
principles,  than  from  the  do«^rines  which  they  op^ 
pofe.  For  they  (at  lead  mofl  of  them)  fuppofe,  with 
refpe£l  to  all  events  that  happen  in  the  moral  world, 
depending  on  the  volitions  of  moral  agents,  which 
are  the  mofl  important  events  of  the  univerfe,  to 
which  all  others  are  fubordinate  ;  I  i^y,  they  fup- 
pofe, with  refpe£l  to  thefe,   that   God  has  a  certain 


.J26  OJ  Arm'inian  Fatality.  Part  IV. 

foreknowledge  of  them,  antecedent  to  any  purpofes 
or  decrees  of  his  about  theni.     And  if  fo,  they  have 
a  fixed  certain  futurity,   prior  to  any  deiigns  or  vo- 
litions of  his,    and  independent   on   them,    and   to 
which   his   volitions  muft  be  fubje6t,    as   he  would 
wifely  accommodate  his  affairs  to  this  fixed  futurity 
of  the  (late  of  things  in  the  moral  world.     So  that 
here,    inftead  of  a   moral  necefiiry  of  God's    Will, 
arifing  from,  or  confiding  in,  the  infinite  perfcv^ion 
and  bleffednefs  of  the  Divine  Being,  we  have  a  fixed 
unalterable  (late  of  things,  properly  di(lin6l  from  the 
perfect  nature  of  the  Divine  Mind,   and  the  ftate  of 
the  Divine  Will  and  Defign,    and  entirely  indepen- 
dent on  thefe  things,  and  which  they  have  no  hand 
in,  becaufe  they  are  prior  to  them  ;  and  which  God's 
Will  is  truly  fubjed  ro,  being  obliged  to  conform  or 
accommodate  himfelf  to  it,  in  all  his  purpofes  and 
decrees,  and  in  every  thing  he  does  in  his  difpofals 
and  government  of  the  world  ;  the  moral  world  be- 
ing the  end  of  the  natural  :   fo  that  all  is  in  vain,  that 
is  not  accotnmodated  to  that  ftate  of  the  moral  world 
which  confifts  in,  or  depends  upon,  the  a6b  and  ftate 
of  the  wills  of  moral  agents,  which  had  a  fixed  futu- 
rition  from  eternity.     Such  a  fubje6lion  to  neceflity 
as  this,   would   truly  argue  an  inferiority  and  fervi- 
tude,   that  would  be  unworthy  the  Supreme  Being ; 
and   is  much   more   agreeable  to  the  notion  which 
many  of  the  heathen  had  of  Fate,  as  above  the  gods, 
than  that  moral  neceflity  of  fitnefs  and  wifdom  which 
has  been  fpoken  of ;  and  is  truly  repugnant  to  the 
abfolute  fovereignty  of  God,   and  inconfiftent  with 
the  fuprcmacy  of  his  Will  ;  and  really  fubjeds  the 
Will  of  the  Moft  High,  to  the  Will  of  his  creatures, 
and  brings  hira  into  dependence  upon  them. 


Sea.  IX.       OJ  the  Objeaion  ahoiU,  ^c.  327 


Section     IX. 

Concerning  that  OhjeBion  againji  the  DoBrine  which  has 
been  maintained^  that  it  makes  GOD  the  Author  of 
Sin. 

It  is  urged  by  Arminians,  that  the  do6lrine  of  the 
neceffity  of  men's  volitions,  or  their  neceffary  con- 
nexion v/ith  antecedent  events  and  circumllances, 
makes  the  firft  caufe,  and  fupreme  orderer  of  all 
things,  the  Author  of  Sin  ;  in  that  he  has  fo  confli- 
tuted  the  Rate  and  courfe  of  things,  that  finful  vo- 
litions become  neceil^iry,  in  confequence  of  his  dif- 
pofal.  Dr.  Whitby,  in  his  Difcourfe  on  the  Free- 
dom of  the  Will,*  cites  one  of  the  antients,  as  on  his 
fide,  declaring  that  this  opinion  of  the  necelfity  of 
the  Will  "  abfolves  Sinners,  as  doing  nothing  of 
**  their  own  accord  which  was  evil,  and  would  caft 
**  all  the  blame  of  all  the  wickednefs  committed  ia 
*'  the  world,  upon  God,  and  upon  his  Providence, 
**  if  that  were  admitted  by  the  affertors  of  this  fate  ; 
*'  whether  he  himfelf  did  neceflitate  them  to  do  thefe 
**  things,  or  ordered  matters  fo,  that  they  (liouid  be 
"  conftrained  to  do  them  by  fome  other  caufeJ' 
And  the  do6tor  fays,  in  another  place, t  *•  In  the  na- 
**  ture  of  the  thing,  and  in  the  opinion  of  philofa. 
**  phers,  cavfa  deficiens,  in  rebus  necejfariis,  ad  caufam 
"  per  fe  ejficientem  rediicenda  tjl.  In  things  necetlary 
**  the  deficient  caufe  mud  be  reduced  to  the  efficient. 
"  And  in  this  cafe  the  reaion  is  evident ;  becaufe 
"  the  not  doing  what  is  required,  or  not  avoiding 
"  what  is  forbidden,  being  a  defeft,  mufl  follow  fiom 
*'  the  pofifion  of  the  neceffary  caufe  of  that  defi- 
**  ciency." 

*  On  the  Five  Points,  p.  361.        +  Ibid,  p.  486. 


328  Ofth  Objeaion  ahout  Part  IV, 

Concerning  this,  I  would  obfervc  the  following 
things. 

I.  If  there  be  any  difficuhy  in  this  matter,  it  is  noth- 
iniT  pecuhar  to  this  fchcme  ;  it  is  no  difficuhy  or 
difadvantage,  wherein  it  is  diftinguilhed  from  the 
Ichemeof  Arminians ;  and,  therefore,  not  reafonably 
objc6led  by  them. 

Dr.  Whitby  fuppofes,  that  if  Sin  neceffarily  fol- 
lows from  God's  withholding  afliftance,  or  if  that 
aflTiftance  be  not  given,  which  is  abtolately  necefTdry 
to  the  avoiding  of  evil ;  then,  in  the  nature  of  the 
thing,  God  muil  be  as  properly  the  Author  of  that 
evil,  as  if  he  were  the  elBcient  caufe  of  it.  From 
whence,  according  to  what  he  himfelf  fays  of  the 
devils  and  damned  fpirits,  God  muft  be  the  proper 
Author  of  their  perfect  unrellrained  wickednefs  :  ha 
mull  be  the  efficient  caufe  of  the  great  pride  of  the 
devils,  and  of  their  perfc6l  malignity  againfl  God, 
ChrifL,  his  taints,  and  all  that  is  good,  and  of  the 
infatiable  cruelty  of  their  difpohtion.  For  he  allows, 
that  God  has  fo  forfaken  them,  and  does  fo  withhold 
his  afTidance  from  them,  that  they  are  incapaciated 
from  doing  good,  and  determined  only  to  evil.* 
Our  dodrine,  in  its  confequence,  makes  God  the 
Author  of  men's  Sin  in  this  world,  no  more,  and  in 
no  other  fenfe,  than  his  doctrine,  in  its  confequence, 
makes  God  the  Author  of  the  hellifli  pride  and  mal- 
ice of  the  devils.  And  doubllefs  the  latter  is  as  odi- 
ous an  efFcft  as  the  former. 

Aagam,  if  it  \viU  folloio  at  all,  that  God  is  the 
Author  of  Sin,  from  what  has  been  fuppofed  of  a 
fure  and  infallible  connexion  between  antecedents 
and  conftquents,  it  vfiW  follow  becaiife  oj  this,  viz.  that 
for  God  to  be  the  Author  or  Ordererof  thole  things 
which,  he  knows  before-hand,  will  infallibly  be  at- 
tended  with  fuch  a  confequence,  is  the  fame  thing, 

«  On  the  Five  Points,  p.  302,  305. 


SeQ.  IX.       How  GOD  is  concerned,  &c.  329 

in  e[Fe6l,  as  for  him  to  be  the  Author  of  that  confe- 
quence.  But,  if  this  be  fo,  this  is  a  difficulty  which 
equally  attends  thedodrineof  y^rmniz^Tzs  themfclves ; 
at  leaft,  of  thofe  of  them  who  allow  God's  certain 
fore- knowledge  of  all  events.  For,  on  the  fuppo- 
fition  of  fuch  a  fore-knowledge,  this  is  the  cafe  with 
refpedl  to  every  fm  that  is  committed:  God  knew, 
that  if  he  ordered  and  brought  topafs  fuch  and  fuch 
events,  fuch  fins  would  infallibly  follow.  As  for 
inftance,  God  certainly  foreknew,  long  before  Judas 
was  born,  that  if  he  ordered  things  fo,  that  there 
ihould  be  fuch  a  man  born,  at  fuch  a  time,  and  at 
fuch  a  place,  and  that  his  life  iliould  be  p'-efcrvcd, 
and  that  he  lliould,  in  Divine  Providence,  be  led  in- 
to acquaintance  with  Jefus  ;  and  that  his  heart 
(hould  be  fo  influenced  by  God's  Spirit  of  Provi- 
dence, as  to  be  inclined  to  be  a  follovvrer  of  ChriO: ; 
and  that  he  fhould  be  one  of  thofe  twelve,  which 
Ihould  be  chofen  conllantly  to  attend  him  as  his  fam- 
ily ;  and  that  his  health  fliould  be  preferved.  fo  that 
he  fhould  go  up  to  Jerufalem,  at  thelaO:  PafToverin 
ChriPt's  life  ;  and  it  ihould  be  fo  ordered,  that  Judas 
lliould  fee  Chrifl's  kind  treatment  of  the  woman 
which  anointed  him  at  Bethany,  and  have  that  re- 
proof from  Chrifl,  which  he  had  at  that  time,  and 
fee  and  hear  other  thinas,  which  excited  his  enmity 
againft  his  Mafler,  and  other  circumflances  Oiould  be 
ordered,  as  they  were  ordered  ;  it  would  be  what 
would  mod  certainly  and  infallibly  follow,  that  Ju- 
das would  betray  his  Lord,  and  would  foon  after 
hang  himfelf,  and  die  impenitent,  and  be  fent  to 
hell,  for  his  horrid  wickednefs. 

Therefore,  this  fuppofed  difficulty  ought  not  to 
be  brought  as  an  objection  againft  the  Icheme  which 
has  been  maintained,  as  difagreeirg  v/iih  the  Arminian 
fcheme,  feeing  it  is  no  difficulty  ov/ing  to  fuch  a 
difagrecment  ;  but  a  difficulty  wherein  the  Arminians 

V  2 


330  How  GOD  is  concerned  ,         Part  IV. 

fhare  with  us.  That  rnuft  be  unreafonably  made 
an  objc6lion  agaiiift  our  differing  from  ihem,  which 
we  (liouhl  not  efcape  or  avoid  at  all  by  agrc-ing 
with  them. 

And  therefore  I  would  obfeive, 

II.  They  who  object,  that  this  docirine  makes 
God  the  Author  of  Sin,  ought  diRindly  to  explain 
what  they  mean  by  that  phrafe,  The  Author  of  Sin, 
I  know  the  phrafe,  as  it  is  commonly  ufed,  hgtiifies 
fomething  very  ill.  If  by  the  Author  of  Sin.  be  meant 
the  Sinner,  the  Agent,  or  Atlor  of  Sin,  or  the  Doer  of  a 
wicked  thing  ;  fo  it  would  be  a  reproach  and  blaf- 
phemy,  to  fuppofe  God  to  be  the  Aurhor  of  Sin, 
In  this  fenfe,  I  utterly  deny  God  to  be  the  Aurhor 
of  Sin  ;  reje6iing  fuch  an  imputation  on  the  Moll 
High,  as  what  is  infinitely  to  be  abhorred  ;  and  deny 
any  (uch  thing  to  be  the  confequence  of  what  I  have 
laid  down.  Bat  if,  by  the  Author  of  Sin,  is  meant 
the  peimitter,  or  not  a  hinderer  of  Sin  ;  and,  at  the 
lame  time,  a  difpofer  of  the  Hate  of  events,  in  fuch 
a  manner,  for  wife,  holy,  and  moft  excellent  ends 
and  purpofes,  that  Sin,  if  it  be  permitted  or  not  hin- 
dered, will  mod  certainly  and  infallibly  follow  :  I 
fay,  if  this  be  all  that  is  meant,  by  being  the  Author 
of  Sin,  I  do  not  deny  that  God  is  the  Author  of  Sin, 
(though  I  diflike  and  reje6l  the  phrafe,  as  that  which 
by  ule  and  cuflom  is  apt  to  carry  another  fenfe)  it  is 
no  reproach  for  the  Moft  Hioh  to  be  thus  the  Auth- 
or of  Sin.  This  is  not  to  be  the  Aclor  of  Sin,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  ofholinefs.  What  God  doth  herein, 
is  holy  ;  and  a  glorious  cxercife  of  the  infinite  ex- 
cellency of  his  nature.  And,  I  do  not  deny,  that 
God's  being  thus  the  Author  of  Sin,  follows  from 
what  I  have  laid  down  ;  and,  I  adert,  that  it  equally 
follows  from  the  dodiine  which  is  maintained  by 
moll  of  the  Arminian  divines. 

That  it  is  mofl  certainly  fo,  that  God  is  in  fuch  a 


Sc6?.  IX.  in  the  Exi fierce  of  Sin.  331 

manner  the  Difpofcr  and  Orderer  of  Sin,  is  evidenf, ; 
if  any  credit  is  to  be  given  to  the  Scripture  ;  as  well 
as  becaufe  it  is  impoirible,  in  the  nirnre  of  things, 
to  be  oihcrwifc.  In  luch  a  manner  God  ordered  the 
obliinacy  of  Pharaoh,  in  his  refufing  to  obey  God's 
commands,  to  let  the  people  go.  Exod.  iv.  21.  / 
zoiil  hardtn  his  hearty  and  he  fnall  not  let  the  people  go. 
Chap.  vii.  2 — 5.  Aaron  thy  brother  faall  [peak  unto 
Pharaoh,  that  he  fend  the  children  of  Ijrad  out  of  his 
land.  And  1  will  harden  Pharaoh's  heart,  and  multi" 
ply  myfgns  and  my  wonders  in  the  land  of  Egypt.  But 
Pharaoh  Jhall  not  hearken  unto  you  ;  that  I  may  lay  mint 
hand  upon  Egypt,  by  great  judgraents.  Sec,  Chap.  ix. 
a  2.  And  the  Lord  hardened  the  heart  of  Pharaoh,  and 
he  hearkened  not  unto  ihein,  as  the  Lord  had  fpoken  unto 
Mofes.  Chap.  x.  i,  2.  And  the  Lord  faid  unto  Mofes, 
Go  in  unto  Pharaoh  ;  forL  have  hardened  his  heart  and 
the  heart  of  his  fervants,  that  I  might  f hero  thefe  my  figns 
before  him,  and  that  thou  mayfl  tell  it  in  the  ears  of  thy 
fon,  and  thy  fon's  fon,  what  things  L  have  wrought  in 
Egypt,  and  myfigns  zvhich  I  have  done  amongjl  them,  that 
ye  may  know  that  I  am  the  I^ord,  Chap.  xiv.  4.  And 
I  will  harden  Pharaoh's  heart,  that  he  f  mil  follow  after 
them  :  and  L  will  be  honoured  upon  Pharaoh,  and  upon 
all  his  Hofl.  Ver.  8.  And  the  Lord  hardened  the 
heart  of  Pharaoh  King  of  Egypt,  and  he  purfaed  after  the 
Children  of  Ijrael.  And  it  is  certain,  that  in  fuch  a 
manner  God,  for  wife  and  good  ends,  ordered  that 
event,  Jofeph's  being  fold  into  Egypt,  by  his  breth- 
ren. Gen.  xlv.  5.  Now,  therefore,  be  not  grieved,  nor 
angry  with  y our f elves,  that  ye  fold  me  hither  ;  for  God 
did  fend  me  before  you  to  prefer  ve  life.  Ver.  7,  8.  Goi 
did  fend  me  before  you  to  prefcrve  a  pofierity  in  the  ec.  iji, 
and  to  fave  your  lives  by  a  great  deliverance  :  fo  that  nox^ 
it  was  not  you,  that  fent  7ne  hither,  but  God.  Pfal.  cvii. 
17.  He  fent  a  man  before  them,  even  Jofeph,  ZL/ho  was 
fold  for  ajervant.     It  is  certain,  that  thus  God  order- 


332  How  GOD  is  conurned  Part  IV. 

ed  the  Sin  and  folly  of  Sihon  King  of  the  Amorites, 
in  refufing  to  let  the  people  of  llrael  pafs  by  him 
peaceably.  Deut.  ii.  30.  But  Sihon  King  of  Htjhhon 
-would  not  Id  us  pafs  by  him ;  for  the  Lord  thy  God  hard^ 
cned  his  fpirit,  and  made  his  heart  ohjlinaie,  that  he  might 
deliver  him  into  thin3  hajid.  It  is  certain,  that  God  thus 
ordered  the  Sin  and  folly  of  the  Kings  of  Canaan, 
that  they  attempted  not  to  make  peace  with  Ifrael, 
but,  with  a  ftupid  boldnefs  and  obflinacy,  fet  them- 
felves  violently  to  oppofe  them  and  their  God. — 
]ofh.  xi.  20.  For  it  xoas  of  the  Lord,  to  harden  their 
hearts,  that  theyjhould  come  ogainji  Ifrael  in  battle,  that 
he  might  defroy  them  utterly,  and  that  they  weight  have 
no  favour ;  but  that  he  might  deJl>oy  them,  as  the  Lord 
commanded  Mofes.  It  is  evident,  that  thus  God  or- 
dered the  treacherous  rebellion  of  Zedekiah  againfl 
the  King  of  Babylon.  }er.  lii.  3.  For  through  the 
anger  cf  the  Lord  it  came  to  pafs  in  Jferufale-m,  and 
Judahy  until  he  had  caft  them  out  from  his  prefcnce,  that 
Zedekiah  rebelled  againf  the  King  of  Babylon.  So  2 
Kings  xxiv.  20.  And  it  is  exceedmg  manifefl;,  that 
God  thus  ordered  the  rapine  and  unrighteous  ravag- 
es of  Nebuchadnezzar,  in  fpoiling  and  ruining  the 
nations  round  about.  [er.  xxv.  9.  Behold,  I  wilt 
fend  and  take  all  the  families  of  the  noith,faith  the  Lord, 
and  Nebuchadnezzar,  my  fervant,  and  will  bring  them 
againf  this  land,  and  agairfl  all  the  nations  round  about  ; 
and  will  utterly  defiroy  them,  and  make  them  an  afonifh- 
mcnt,  and  an  hiffmg,  and  perpetual  defolations.  Chap, 
xliii.  10,  1  I.  /  will  fend  and  take  Nebuchadnezzar  the 
king  of  Babylon,  my  fervant  :  and  I  will  fet  his  throne 
upon  thefe  Jlones  that  I  have  hid,  and  he  fiall  fpread  his 
royal  pavillion  over  them.  And  when  he  comtth,  hefhall 
fmite  the  land  of  fgypt,  and  deliver  futh  as  are  for  death 
to  death,  and  Juch  as  are  for  captivity  to  captivity,  and 
fuch  as  are  for  the  fword  to  thefzuofd.  Thus  God  re- 
prefents  himfclf  2is  fending  for  Nebuchadnezzar,  and 


Se6l.  IX.  in  the  Exiftence  of  Sin.  333 

taking  of  him  and  his  armies,  and  bringing  him  againfl: 
the  nations,  which  were  to  be  deftroyed  by  him,  to 
that  very  end,  that  he  might  utterly  dcflroy  them, 
and  make  them  defolate  ;  and  as  appointing  the 
work  that  he  fliould  do,  fo  particularly,  that  the  very 
perfons  were  defigned  that  he  fhould  kill  with  ihe 
Iword,  and  thole  that  fliould  be  killed  with  famine 
and  peflilence,  and  thofe  that  (hould  be  carried  mto 
captivity  ;  and  that  in  doing  all  thefe  things,  he 
fhould  a6t  as  his  fc^rvant  ;  by  which,  lefs  cannot  be 
intended,  than  that  he  fhould  ferve  his  purpofes  and 
defigns.  And  in  fer.  xxvii.  4,  5,  6  ;  God  declares, 
how  he  would  caufe  him  thus  to  ferve  his  dcfigns, 
viz.  by  bringing  this  to  pafs  in  his  fovcrcigii  .^if- 
pofal,  as  the  great  Polfcffor  and  Governor  of  rhe 
Univerfe,  that  difpofes  all  things  j'.jfl  as  pleafcc  bim. 
Thus  faith  the  Lord  of  Hvjls,  the  God  of  Ifrael ;  I  have 
made  the  earth,  the  raan  and  the  bcaft,  that  are  ufjon  the 
ground,  by  my  great  power,  and  my  jlr etched  cut  arm,  and 
have  givQU  it  uiiio  ivhom  it  feeriied  meet  unto  me  :  and 
now  I  have  given  all  theft  lands  unto  ihe  hands  of  Nebu- 
chadnezzar, MY  SERVANT,  and  the  bcafis  of chc field 
have  I  given  alfo  to  ferve  hnn.  And  Nebuchadnezzar 
is  Ipoken  uf  as  doing  theie  things,  by  having  his 
armsflrengiJiciicdhy  God,  and  having  God's  f coord  put 
into  his  hands,  for  this  end,  Ezek.  xxx.  24,  25,  2(3. 
Yea,  God  fpeaks  of  his  terrible  ravaj^inir  and  waflincr 
the  nations,  and  cruelly  dcflroying  all  ibrts,  without 
dillindlion  of  (ex  or  age,  as  the  weapon  in  God's 
hand,  and  the  inftriHrient  of  his  indignation,  which 
God  makes  ufe  of  to  fulfil  his  own  purpofes,  and  ex- 
ecute his  own  vengeance.  Jer.  li.  20,  Sec.  Thou 
art  my  batik- axe,  and  locapons  of  war  :  For  with  thee 
will  I  break  in  pieces  the,  nations,  and  zvith  thee  will  1 
deftroy  kingdoms,  and  with  thee  will  1  break  in  pieces  the 
horfe  and  his  rider,  and  zvith  thee  zuill  I  break  m  pieces 
the  chariot  and  his  r:d:r  ;  with  thee  alfo  zuill  I  break  in 


334  How  GOD  is  C07icerned  Part  IV. 

pieces  T/ian  and  woman,  and  with  thee  will  I  break  in 
pieces  old  and  young,  and  with  thee  will  I  break  in 
pieces  the  young  man  and  the  7naid,  &c.  It  is  repre- 
lented,  that  the  defigns  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  and 
tho(e  that  defiroyed  Jerufalem.  never  could  have 
been  nccomphfljed,  had  not  God  determined  them, 
as  well  a^  they.  Lam.  iii.  37.  IVho  is  he  that  faith, 
and  it  Cometh  to  pofs,  and  the  Lord  commandeth  it  not  ? 
And  yet  the  King  of  Babylon's  thus  deftroying  the 
nations,  and  efpecialiy  the  Jetos,  is  fpoken  of  as  his 
great  wickednefs,  for  which  Gv')d  finally  deftroyed 
him.  Ifa.  xiv.  4,  5,  6,  12.  Hab.  ii.  5-— 12,  and 
Jer.  chap.  1.  and  li.  It  is  moll  nianifell.  that  God, 
to  feive  his  own  dcfigns,  providentially  ordered 
Shiniei's  curfing  David.  2  Sam.  xvi.  10,  11.  The 
Lord  hath  Jaid  unto  him,  curfe  David — Let  him  curje^ 
for  the  Lord  hath  bidden  him. 

It  is  certain,  that  God  thus,  for  excellent,  holy, 
gracious  and  glorious  ends,  ordered  the  faci:  which 
they  committed,  who  were  concerned  in  Chriil's 
death  ;  and  that  therein  they  did  but  fulfil  God's  de- 
figns.  As,  1  trull,  no  Chriflian  v/ili  deny  it  wi\s 
the  defign  of  God,  that  Chrifl:  Qiould^e  crucijied,  and 
that  for  this  end,  he  came  into  the  world.  It  is  ve^ 
\y  manifefl,  by  many  Scriptures,  that  the  whole  af- 
fair of  Chriil's  crucifixion,  with  its  circumftances, 
and  the  treachery  of  fudas,  that  made  way  for  it, 
was  ordered  in  God's  Providence,  in  purfuance  of 
Ills  purpofe  ;  notwithftanding  the  violence  that  is 
ufed  with  thofe  plain  Scriptures,  toobfcure  and  per- 
vert the  fenfe  of  them,  A6ls  ii.  23.  Hiin  being  de- 
livered, by  the  determinate  counjel  and  fore  knowledge  of 
God,'*  ye  have  taken^  and  with  wicked  hands,  have  cru- 

*  *•  Grotiii*;,  ?s  well  as  Bcza,  obferves, /^r^^^'-i^^yfj  muft  here 
"fjgnity  decree  ;  and  Eifner  has  fhewn  that  ii  has  that  figni- 
*'  fication,  in  approved  Greek  writers.  And  it  is  certain 
*'  Ekaotos  fignifi'js  one  given  up  into  the  hands  oi  an  enemy." 
Podd.  in  Luc. 


SeOt.  IX.  in  the  Exiflcncc  of  Sui.  0'^< 

cijicd  and jlain.  Luke  xxii.  21,  22. t  But  behold  the 
hand  oj  him  that  bctraycth  me,  is  with  me  on  the  tabic  : 
and  truly  the  Son  of  Man  goeth,  as  it  was  determined, 
A6ls  iv.  27,  28.  For  o/a  truth,  againjl  the  holy  child 
JefitSy  whom  thou  hafl  anointed,  both  Herod,  and  Pontius 
Filate,  with  the  Gentiles,  and  the  people  of  Jfrael,  vjere 
gathered  together,  for  to  do  whatfoever  thy  hand  and  thy 
CGunfcl  determined  before  to  he  done.  A61s  iii.  17,  18. 
And  now,  brethren,  1  wot  that  through  ignorance  ye  did 
it,  as  did  alfo  your  rulers :  but  thefe  things,  which  God 
before  had  Jhcioed  by  the  mouth  of  all  hisprophrts,  thct 
Chiifl  fhuiddfvjfer,  he  hath fo  fulfilled.  So  that  whac 
thele  murderers  of  Chrill  did,  is  fpoken  of  as  what 
God  brought  to  pafs  or  ordered,  and  that  by  which 
lie  fulfilled  his  own  word. 

In  Rev.  xvii.  17,  The  agreeing  of  the  Kings  of  the 
earth  to  give  their  kingdom  to  the  bcajl,  thou-^^h  it  was  a 
very  wicked  thing  m  them,  is  fpokGU  o^  -dn^a  fu filling 
-God's  Will,  and  what  God  had  put  into  their  hearts  to  da. 
It  is  manifeft,  rliat  God  fometimes  permits  Sin  to  be 
committed,  and  at  the  fame  time  orders  things  (o, 
that  if  he  permits  the  fact,  it  will  come  to  pafs.  be- 
caufe,  on  fome  accounts,  he  fees  it  needful  and  of 
importance,  that  it  fliould  come  fo  pafs.  Matr, 
xviii.  7.  It  mufl  needs  be,  that  offences  co?/i:  ;  bui  wo  to 
that  7nan  by  whom  the  offence  Cometh.  AVith  1  Cor.  xi. 
19.  For  there  r,iufl  alfo  be  herefies  among  you,  that  thry 
which  are  approved  may  be  made  manifefi  among  you, 

f  '*  As  this  pafTage  is  not  liable  to  the  ambiguities,  which 
*'  fojnehave  apprehended  in  Atls  ii.  23,  and  iv.  1*8,' {'which 
•'  yet  fcem  on  the  whole  to  be  parallel  to  it,  in  tlicir  rrioft  na- 
"tuial  con(hu6iion'  1  look  upon  it  as  an  evident  proof,  that 
•»  thele  things  are,  in  the  language  of  Scripture,  faid  to  be  de- 
*'  lerniined  or  decreed  for  exattly  bounded  and  marked  out 
**  by  God,  as  the  word  (7 /-zzt?  moit  naturally  fignifiesj  which  he 
*•  fees  in  ia6i  will  happen,  in  confequeiice  of  his  voliiions, 
"  without  any  necclTitating  agency  ;  as  well  as  tk-ofe  qyciw^^ 
*'  of  which  he  is  properly  the'duihor."     Dodd.  in  Loc. 


33^  ^'^ocu  GOD  is  concerned  Part  IV. 

Tims  it  is  certain  znd  demon flable,  from  the  holy 
Scripnires,  as  well  as  the  nature  of  things,  and  the 
princJoles  of  Aj-minians,  that  God  permits  Sin  ;  and 
at  the  lame  time,  fo  orders  things,  in  his  Providence, 
that  it  certainly  and  infallibly  will  come  to  pafs,  in 
confequence  of  his  permiifion. 

I  proceed  to  obfcrve  in  the  next  place, 
III.  That  there  is  a  great  difference  between  God's 
being  concerned  thus,  by  his  permijfion,  in  an  event 
and  a;^t,  which,  in  the  inherent  fubjeiSl  and  agent  of 
it,  is  Sin,  (though  the  event  will  certainly  follow  on 
hispermiflion)  and  his  being  concerned  in  it  hy  pro- 
ducing  it  and  exerting  the  a6l  of  Sin  ;  or  between 
his  being  the  Orderer  of  its  certain  exiflence,  by  noi 
hindering  \t^  under  certain  circumftances,  and  his  be- 
ing the  proper  Aftor  or  Author  of  it,  by  a  pofitive  A^ 
gsncy  or  Efficiency,  And  this,  notwithllanding  what 
Dr.  Whitby  offers  about  a  faying  of  philofophers, 
that  caufa  deficiens,  in  rebus  neceffariis,  ad  caufain  per  fe 
efficientem  reducenda  ejl.  As  there  is  a  vail  dilFerence 
between  the  fun's  being  the  caufe  of  the  iightiomnefs 
and  warmth  of  the  atmoTphere,  and  brightnefs  of 
gold  and  diamonds,  by  its  prefence  and  pofitive  in- 
fluence ;  and  its  being  the  occafion  of  darknefs  and 
frod,  in  the  night,  by  its  motion,  v/hereby  it  dzU 
cends  below  the  horizon.  The  motion  of  the  fun 
is  the  occafion  of  the  latter  klad  of  events  ;  but  it  is 
not  the  proper  c^ufe,  efficient  or  producer  of  them  ; 
though  they  are  necefLirily  confcquent  on  that  mo- 
tion, under  fuch  circumftances  :  no  more  is  any 
adion  of  the  Divine  Being  the  Caufe  of  the  Evil  of 
mtn's  Wills.  If  the  fun  were  the  proper  caufe  of 
cold  and  darknefs,  it  would  be  ih^  fountain  of  thefc 
things,  as  it  is  ihe  fountain  of  light  and  beat  :  and 
then  fomething  might  be  argued  from  the  nature  of 
cold  and  darknefs,  to  a  likcnefs  cf  nature  in  the  (an  ; 
and  it  might  be  juflly  inferred,  that  the  fun  itfeif  is 


Sea.  IX.  in  the  Exiftence  of  Siju  337 

dark  and  cold,  and  that  his  beams  are  black  and 
frofty.  But  iiom  its  being  the  caufe  no  othcrwifc 
than  by  its  departure,  no  fuch  thing  can  be  inferred, 
but  the  contrary  ;  it  may  jullly  be  argued,  that  the 
fun  is  a  bright  and  hot  body,  if  cold  and  darknefs 
are  found  10  be  the  confequence  of  its  withdraw- 
inent ;  and  the  more  conllantly  and  neceffarily  thefa 
effetls  are  conneQed  with,  and  con6ned  to  its  ab- 
ience,  the  more  ftrongly  does  it  argue  the  fun  to  be 
the  fountain  of  light  and  heat.  So,  inafmuch  as 
Sin,  is  not  the  fruit  of  any  pofitive  agency  or  in- 
fluence of  the  Mod  High,  but,  on  the  contrary,  arif- 
cs  from  the  withholding  of  his  adion  and  energy, 
and,  under  certain  circumilances,  neceffarily  follows 
on  the  want  of  his  influence  ;  this  is  no  argument 
that  be  is  fmful,  or  his  operation  evil,  or  has  any 
thing  of  the  nature  of  evil  ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
that  He;  and  his  Agency,  are  altogether  good  and 
holy,  and  that  He  is  the  fountain  of  all  Holinefs.  It 
would  be  flrange  arguing,  indeed,  becaufe  men  nev- 
er commit  Sin,  but  only  when  God  leaves  them  to 
ihemfelves,  and  neceffarily  Sin,  when  he  does  fo,  and 
therefore  their  Sin  is  not  from  themfdves  but  from 
God  ;  and  fo,  that  God  muff  be  a  fmful  Being  ;  as 
flrange  as  it  would  be  to  argi^e,  becaufe  it  is  always 
dark  when  the  fun  is  gone,  and  never  dark  when  the 
lun  is  prefent,  that  therefore  all  darknefs  is  from 
the  fun,  and  that  his  difk  and  beams  muff  needs  be 
black. 

IV.  It  properly  belongs  to  the  Supreme  and  Ab- 
folute  Governor  of  the  univerfe,  to  order  all  im- 
portant events  within  his  dominion,  by  his  wifdom  : 
but  the  events  in  the  moral  world  are  of  the  moft 
important  kind,  fuch  as  the  moral  actions  of  intelli- 
gent creatures,  and  their  conlequences. 

Thefe  events  will  be  ordered  by  fomething.  They 
will  either  be  difpofed  by  wifdom,  or  they  will  be 

W  a 


338  Hew  GOD  is  concerned  Pa  it  IV. 

difpofed  by  chance  ;  that  is,  they  will  be  difpofed 
by  blind  and  undeJigning  caufes,  if  that  v/erepoSible, 
and  could  be  called  a  dilpofal.  Is  it  not  belter, 
tiiat  (he  good  andevil  which  happens  in  God's  world, 
ihouid  be  ordered,  regulated,  bounded  and  deter- 
mined by  the  good  pleafure  of  an  infinitely  wife 
Being,  who  perfedly  comprehends  within  his  under- 
ilandmg  and  conftant  view,  the  univerfality  of 
things,  in  all  their  extent  and  duration,  and  fees  all 
the  influence  of  every  event,  with  refpe6l  to  every 
individual  thing  and  circumflance,  throughout  liie 
grind  iyn:cm,  and  the  whole  of  the  eternal  feries  of 
confequences ;  than  to  leave  thefe  things  to  fall  out 
by  chance,  and  to  be  determined  by  thofe  caufes 
which  have  no  underftanding  or  aim  ?  Doubtlefs,  in 
thcfe  important  events,  there  is  a  better  and  a  worfe, 
as  to  the  time,  fubje6f,  place,  manner  and  circum- 
ftances  of  their  coming  to  pafs,  with  regard  to  their 
influence  on  the  flate  and  courfe  of  things.  And  if 
there  be,  it  is  certainly  bed  that  they  (fiould  be  de- 
termined to  that  time,  place,  &c.  which  is  beil.  And 
therefore  it  is  in  its  own  nature  fit,  that  wifdorn, 
and  not  chance,  fhould  order  thefe  things.  So  that; 
it  belongs  to  the  Being,  who  is  the  pofieiTor  of  in- 
finite Wildom,  and  is  the  Creator  and  Owner  of  the 
whole  fyflern  of  created  exillences,  and  has  the  care 
of  all  ;  I  fay,  it  belongs  to  him,  to  take  care  of  this 
matter  ;  and  he  would  not  do  what  is  proper  for 
him,  if  he  fhould  negled  it.  And  it  is  fo  far  from 
being  unholy  in  him,  to  undertake  this  affair,  that 
it  would  rather  have  been  unholy  to  neglefl  it ;  as 
it  would  have  been  a  negleding  what  fiily  apper- 
tains to  him  ;  and  fo  it  would  have  been  a  very  un- 
fit and  unfuicable  neglc6l. 

Therefore  the  fovereignty  of  God  doubtlefs  ex- 
tends to  this  matter  :  efpccially  confidering,  that  if 
it  fhould   be    fuppoled    to   be  otherwife,   and  God 


Sc61.  IX.  in  the  Exiftence  of  Sin,  339 

fliould  leave  men's  volitions,  and  all  moral  events, 
to  the  determination  and  difpofition  of  blind  un- 
meaning caufes,  or  they  fiiould  be  left  to  happen 
perf(36tjy  without  a  caufe  ;  this  would  be  no  more 
confident  with  liberty,  in  any  notion  of  it,  and  par- 
ticularly not  in  the  Arminian  notion  of  it,  than  if 
thele  events  were  fubjc61t  to  the  dif'pofal  of  Divine 
Providence,  and  the  Will  of  man  were  determined 
by  circumdances  which  are  ordered  and  difpofed  by 
Divine  wifdom  ;  as  appears  by  w^hat  has  been  alrea- 
dy obferved.  But  it  is  evident,  that  fiich  a  provi- 
dential difpofing  and  determining  men's  moral  ac- 
tions, though  it  infers  a  moral  necciTity  of  thofe  ac- 
tions, yet  it  does  not  in  the  leafl  infringe  the  real 
liberty  of  mankind  ;  the  only  liberty  that  common 
fenfe  teaches  to  be  neceffiry  to  moral  agency,  which, 
as  has  been  demonftrated,  is  not  inconfillent  with 
fuch  neceflitv. 

On  the  whole,  it  is  manifeTc,  that  God  may  be, 
in  the  manner  which  has  been  defcribed,  the  Order- 
er  and  Difpofer  of  that  event,  which,  in  the  inherent 
fubjecl  and  agent,  is  moral  evil;  and  yet  His  fo 
doing  may  be  no  moral  evil.  He  may  Will  the 
difpofal  of  fuch  an  event,  and  its  coming  to  pafs 
for  good  ends,  and  his  Will  not  be  an  immoral  or 
finful  Will,  but  a  perfe6l  holy  Will.  And  he  may 
adually,  in  his  Providence,  fo  difpofe  and  permit: 
things,  that  the  event  may  be  certainly  and  infalli- 
bly  conne£led  with  fuch  difpofal  and  permifTion, 
and  his  a6l  therein  not  be  an  immoral  or  unholy, 
but  a  perfectly  holy  a6l.  Sin  may  be  an  evil  thing, 
and  yet  that  there  fliould  be  fuch  a  difpofal  and 
permiliion,  as  that  it  (liould  covne  to  pafs,  may  be 
a  good  thing.  This  is  no  contradiction,  or  incon- 
fiflence.  Jofepb's  brethren's  felling  him  into  Egypt, 
confider  it  only  as  it  was  a£^ed  by  them,  and  with 
refpe6t  to  their  views  and  aims  which  were  evil. 


340  OJ  GOD'S  fecret  Part  IV, 

was  a  very  bad  thing  ;  but  it  was  a  good  thing,  as 
it  was  ail  event  of  God's  ordering,  and  confidered 
with  refpe^v  to  his  views  and  aims  which  were  good. 
Gen.  1.  20.  As  for  you.ye  thought  Evil  ogainjl  me  ;  hut 
God  meant  it  unto  Good,  So  the  crucifixion  of  Chrift, 
if  we  coniideronly  thofe  things  which  belong  to  the 
event  as  it  proceeded  from  his  murderers,  and  are 
comprehended  within  the  compafs  of  the  affair  con- 
fidered as  their  a8:,  their  principles,  difpcfitions, 
views  and  aims  ;  fo  it  vfdiS  one  of  the  ntoll  hcnious 
things  that  ever  was  done ;  in  many  refpeds  the 
inofl:  horrid  of  all  a6ls  :  but  confider  it,  as  it  was 
willed  and  ordered  of  God,  in  the  extent  of  his  de« 
figns  and  views,  it  was  the  rnoil  admirable  and  glo- 
rious of  all  events  ;  and  God's  willing  the  event 
was  the  mofc  holy  volition  of  God,  that  ever  \V3iS 
made  knov/n  to  men  ;  and  God's  a6t  in  ordering  it, 
was  a  divine  a6l,  which,  above  all  others,  manifefls 
the  moral  excellency  of  the  Divine  Being. 

The  confideration  of  thefe  things  may  help  us  to 
a  fufficient  anfwer  to  the  cavils  of  Arminians,  con- 
cerning what  has  been  fuppofed  by  man-  CalviniJIs^ 
.of  a  diiliTjdion  between  ;\  fecret  and  revealed  Will  of 
God,  and  their  diverfity  one  from  the  other  ;  fup- 
pofing  that  the  Calvinijls  herein  afcribe  inconfiilent 
Wills  to  the  Mofl  High  :  which  is  without  any 
foundation.  God's  fccrct  and  revealed  Will,  or,  in 
other  words,  his  difpojing  and  perieptivc  Will,  may 
be  diverfc,  and  exerciied  in  dillimiiar  a6ls,  the  one 
in  difapproving  and  oppofing,  the  other  in  willing 
and  determining,  v/ithout  any  inconfi Hence.  Be- 
caufe.  although  thefe  dilfimilar  exercifes  of  the  Di- 
vine Will  may,  in  Ibme  refpcdls,  relate  to  the  {Amc 
things,  yet,  in  ftritlnefs,  they  have  different  and 
contrary  obje6ls,  the  one  evil  and  the  other  good. 
Thus,  for  inllancc,  the  crucifixion  of  Chrift  was  a 
thing  contrary  to  the  revealed  or  perceptive  Will  of 


Seft.  IX.  and  revealed  Will. 


341 


God,  becaufe,  as  it  was  vie^ved  and  done  by  his  ma- 
lignant murderers,  it  was  a  thing  infinitely  contra- 
ry to  the  holy  nature  of  God,  and  fo  ncccfTruily  con- 
trary to  the  holy  inclination  of  his  heart  revealed  in 
his  law.  Yet  this  does  not  at  all  hinder  but  that 
the  crucifixion  of  Chrifl,  confidered  with  all  thofc 
glorious  confcquences,  which  were  within  the  view 
of  the  Divine  Omnifcience,  might  be  indeed,  and 
therefore  might  appear  to  God  to  be,  a  glorious 
event  ;  and  confcquenrly  be  agreeable  to  his  Will, 
though  this  Will  may  be  iecret,  i.  e.  not  revealed  in 
God's  law.  And  thus  confidered,  the  crucifixion 
of  Chriil  was  not  evil  but  good.  If  the  fccret  ex- 
ercifes  of  God's  Will  were  of  a  kind  that  is  diffimi-' 
lar,  and  contrary  to  his  revealed  Will,  refpcclirsg^ 
the  fame,  or  like  objecis  ;  if  the  objeds  of  both* 
were  good,  or  both  evil  ;  then,  indeed,  to  afcribe 
contrary  kinds  of  volition  or  inclination  to  God,  rc- 
fpc6ling  thefe  objetls,  would  be  to  afcribe  an  incon- 
fiftent  Will  to  God  ;  but  to  afcribe  to  him  different; 
and  oppolite  exercifes  of  heart,  refpe^ting  different 
objeds,  and  objeds  contrary  one  to  another,  is  fo 
far  from  fuppofing  God's  W^ill  to  be  inconfijlcnt  with  ^ 
itfelf,  that  it  cannot  be  fuppofed  confificnt  with  itfelf^' 
any  other  way.  For  any  being  to  have  a  Will  of 
choice  rcfpeding  good,  and  at  the  fame  time,  a  Will 
of  rejection  and  refufal  refpe6ling  evil,  is  to  be  very- 
confident  :  but  the  contrary,  viz.  to  have  the  fame 
Will  towards  thefe  contrary  objeds,  and  to  choofe 
and  love  both  good  and  evil,  at  the  fame  time,  is  to 
be  very  inconfiltent. 

There  is  no  inconfidcnce  in  fuppofing,  that  God 
may  hate  a  thing  as  it  is  in  itfeif,  and  confidered 
fimply  as  evil,  and  yet  that  it  may  be  his  Will  it 
fhould  come  to  pafs,  confidering  all  confcquences. 
I  believe,  there  is  no  pcrfon  of  good  underftanding, 
who  will  venture  to  fay,  he  is  certain  that  it  is  ira- 


342  OJ  GOD'S  fLcret  Part  IV. 

poffible  it  ITiould  be  befl:,  taking  in  the  whole  corn- 
pars  and  extent  of  exiilence,  and  all  confequences 
in  the  cndlefs  feries  of  events,  that  there  (liould  be 
fuch  a  thing  as  moral  evil  in  the  world.*     And,   if 

*  Here  are  ^N'orthy  to  be  obfcrvcrl  fomc  pa{raj:jcs  of  a  late 
noted  writer,  of  oar  nation,  that  nobody  ^^  ho  is  acquainted 
with  him,  wi!!    fufpeft   to  be  very   iavourable  to   Calvimfm, 

*  It  is  difiicult  (fays  he;  to  handle  the  necfjjity  of  evil  in    fuch 

*  a  manner,  as  not  to   Humble  fuch  as  arc  not  above  being 

*  alarmed  at  propofitions  which  have  an  uncommon  found. 
'  But  if   phiiolophers  will    but   reflect  calmly  on   the  matter. 

*  they  will  find,   that  confidently  with   the  unlimitted  power 

*  of  the   Supreme  Caufe,   it   may  be  faid,  that  in   the  be  ft  or- 

*  dered  fyflem,  evils  mu(f  have  place.' — Turnbull's  Pkin. 
CIPLES  of  7710 ral  Phil ofo()hy,  p.  337,  328.  He  is  there  (peak- 
ing of  moral  evils,  as  may  be  itQn. 

Again  the  fame  Author,  in  his yZ'ca;?i  t^/?/.  entitled  Chrifl 
tian  Plulo[oph\\   p.  3^,  has  thefe  words  :    'If  the  Author  and 

*  Governor  ot   all  thmgs  be  infinitely   perfeCl,   then  whatever 

*  is,  is  right  ;  of   all   poflible  fyftems  he  hath  chofen  the  bcft  : 

*  and  coiilequently,  tiiere  is  no  abfolute  evil  in  the  univerle. — 

*  This  being  the  cafe,  all  the  fecming  imperjetllons  or  evils  in 

*  it  are  fuch  only  in  a  partial  view  ;    and  with  refpe6l  to  the 

*  whole  fyiiem,  thev  are^^^^f.' 

Ibid,  p.  37.    *  Whence  then  comes  evil  ?   is  the  queftion  that 

*  "hath,  in  all  ages,  been  reckoned  the  Gordian  knot  in  philof- 
'  ophy.     And,  indeed,  if  we  own   the  exiftence  of  evil  in  the 

*  world  in  an  ahjolute  fenfe,  we  diametrically  contradi6l  what 

*  hath  been  jutt  now  proved   ot    God.     For  if   there   beany 

*  evil'm  the  fyilem,  that  is  not  good  in  refpe6l   to   the  whole 

*  then  is  the   whole  not  good,   but  evil  :   or,  at  be  ft,  very  im- 

*  perfed ;    and  an  Author  muft  be  as  his   wurkmanflnp  is  ;    as 

*  is  the   effect,   fuch  is  the   caufe.     But  the  folution  of  this 

*  difficulty  is  at  hand  ;    That  there  is   no  evil  in   the  unive'fe. 

*  What  I    Are  there  no  pains,  no  imperfections  ?    Is  there  no 

*  mifery,  no  vice  in  the  world  ?    or  are  not  thefe  evils  ?   Evils 

*  indeed  they  are  ;    that  is,  thofe  of   one  fort  are  hurtful,   and 

*  thofe  ot   the  other  fort  are  equally  hurtful,  and  abominable  : 

*  but  they    are   not  evil  or   mifchievous   with  refpeft  to   the 

*  whole.' 

Ibid,  p.  42.     *  But  He  is,   at  the  fame  time,  faid  to  create 

*  evil,  daiknefs,  confufion  ;  and   yet  to  do  no  evil,  but   to  be 

*  the  Authjr  of  good  only.     He  is  called  the  Father  of  lights. 


Se6l.  IX.  diid  revealed  WiiL  343 

fo,  it  will  certainly  follow,  that  an  infinitely  v/ii'n 
Being,  who  always  choofcs  what  is  bed,  muftchoore 
that  there  {liould  be  fuch  a  thing.  And,  it  (o,  then 
fuch  a  choice  is  not  an  evil,  b-Jt  a  wife  and  holy 
choice.  And  if  fo,  then  th?.t  Providence  which  is 
agreeable  to  fuch  a  choice,  is  a  wife  and  holy  Prov- 
idence. Men  do  will  fin  as  fin,  and  fo  are  the  au- 
thors and  adlors  of  it  :  they  love  it  as  fin,  and  for 
evil  ends  and  purpofes.  God  does  not  will  fin  as 
fin,  or  for  the  fake  of  any  thing  evil;  though  it  be 
his  pleafure  fo  to  order  things,  that  He  permitting, 
fin  will  come  to  pafs  ;  for  the  lake  of  the  great  good 
that  by  his  difpofal  fhall  be  the  confequencc.  His 
willing  to  order  things  fo  that  evil  fhouid  come  to 
pafs,  for  the  fake  of  the  contrary  good,  is  no  argu- 
ment that  He  does  not  hate  evil,  as  evil  :  and  if  fo, 
then  it  is  no  reafon  why  he  may  not  reafonably  for- 
bid evil,  as  evil,  and  punifti  it  as  fuch. 

The  Arminians  themfelves  mult  be  obliged, 
whether  they  v/ill  or  no,  to  allow  a  diilin6lion  of 
God's  Will,  amounting  to  jud  the  fame  thing  that 
Calvini/i^  intend  by  their  diftindion  of  a  fecret  and 
revealed  Will.  They  muffc  allow  a  diRindion  of 
thofe  things  which  God  thinks  bed  flioaid  be,  con- 
lidering  all  circumftances  and  confequences,  and  fo 
are  agreeable  to  his  difpofing  Will,  and  thofe  things 


*  the  Author  of  every  perfeB  and  good  gift,  zuitli  whom  there 

*  is  no   vanabUvefs    norJJiadou,  of  turning,  who   templclh  no 

*  man,  huigtveth  tc  all  max  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not.   And ' 

*  yet  by  the  prophet  ir^ias,    He  is  introduced  faying  ot    Hiiu- 

*  felf,  I  form  I'lght,   and  create  darknej}  ;  I  make  peace,  and 
^  create  evil :  I  the  Lord,   do   all  thfe  things.     What  is  the 

*  meaning,    the  plain  language  of   all   this,  but    that  the  Lo:d 

*  delighteth   in  goodnefs,   and   (as   the  ScripJuie  fpeaksj  evil 

*  is  his  Jifange  work  ?    He  intends  and    pinfucs   the  iu)ive;fal 

*  ^<9^ijf' ot  his  creation  :  and    the  evil  which    happens,    is  not 

*  permitted  tor  its  own  lake,  or  ihroiwh  any   pleaiure  in   evil, 

*  but  becaufe  it  is  rcquiliii;  to  {\\q  greater  good  ^^uxiutdJ 


344  Of  GOD'S  fecret  Part  IV. 

which  he  loves,  and  are  aoreeable  to  his  nature,  in 
themfelves  conlidered.  vVho  is  there  that  will  dare 
to  fay,  that  the  hcllifh  pride,  malice  and  cruelty  of 
devils,  are  agreeable  to  God,  and  what  He  likes  and 
approves  ?  and  yet,  I  truft,  there  is  no  chrillian  di- 
vine but  ivhat  will  allow,  that  it  is  agreeable  to 
God's  Will  To  to  order  and  difpofe  things  concern- 
ing them,  To  to  leave  them  to  themlelves,  and  give 
them  up  to  their  own  wickednefs,  that  this  perl^tl 
wickedneis  fhould  be  a  neceflfary  confcquence.  Be- 
fure  Dr.  Whitby's  words  do  plainly  iuppofe  and 
allow  it.* 

The  following  things  may  be  laid  down  as  max- 
ims of  plain  truth,  and  indifputable  evidence. 

1.  That  God  is  a  perfeHly  happy  Being,  in  the 
moH  abfolute  and  higheii  lenfe  polhble. 

2.  That  it  will  follow  from  hence,  that  God  is 
free  from  every  thing  that  is  contrary  to  happinefs  ; 
and  fo,  that  in  (Iridl  propriety  of  fpeech,  there  is  no 
luch  thing  as  any  pain,  grief,  or  trouble,  in  God. 

3.  When  anv  intelligent  being  is  really  eroded 
and  difappointed,  and  things  are  contrary  to  what 
he  truly  defires,  he  is  the  Ufs  pkafcd  or  has  lefs  pka- 

Jure,  his  pkafure  and  happinefs  is  diminijhcd,  and  he 
fulFers  what  is  difagreeabie  to  him,  or  is  the  fubje6l 
of  fomething  that  is  of  a  nature  contrary  to  joy  and 
happinefs,  even  pain  and  grief.t 

From  this  lad  axiom,  it  follows,  that  if  no  dif- 
tinCtion  is  to  be  admitted  between  God's  hatred  of 
fin,  and  his  Will  with  re('pe6t  to  the  event  and  the 

*  Whitby  on  the  five  Points,  Edit.  2.  p.  300,  30,5,  309. 

+  Certainly  it  is  not  Icfs  abfurd  and  unreafonablc,  to  talk 
of  God's  Will  and  Defiies  beinc^  truly  and  properly  crolled, 
without  his  fufFering  any  uncafincfs,  or  any  thing  grievous  or 
difagreeabie,  than  it  is  to  tall;  of  foniethini^  that  may  be  called 
a  rcve.akd  JFiU,  which  may,  in  foine  rcfpttb,  be  different 
from  a/t'cr/'t  purpofe  ;  which  purpofe  may  b-^  iulfilled,  when 
the  glIic*:"  is  oppolej. 


Sea.  IX.  and  revealed  Will, 


345 


exiftence  of  fin,  as  the  all-wife  Determiner  of  all 
events,  under  the  view  of  all  confcquenccs  through 
the  whole  compafs  and  feries  of  things  ;  I  fay,  then 
it  certainly  follows,  that  the  coming  to  pafs  of  eve- 
ry individual  a6t  of  fin  is  truly,  all  things  confider- 
ed,  contrary  to  his  Will,  and  that  his  Will  is  real- 
ly crofTed  in  it  ;  and  this  in  proportion  as  He  hates 
it.  And  as  God's  hatred  of  fin  is  infinite,  by  reafon 
of  the  infinite  contrariety  of  his  Holy  Nature  to 
fin  ;  fo  his  Will  is  infinitely  crofTed,  in  every  a6t 
of  fin  that  happens.  W^hich  is  as  much  as  to  fay. 
He  endures  that  which  is  infinitely  difagreeable  to 
him,  by  means  of  every  a6l  of  fin  (hat  He  fees  com-i 
mitted.  And,  therefore,  as  appears  by  the  preced- 
ing pofitions.  He  endures  truly  and  really,  infinite 
grief  or  pain  from  every  fin.  And  fo  He  mud  be 
infinitely  crofled,  and  fuiTer  infinite  pain,  every  day, 
in  millions  of  millions  of  inftances:  He  mull  con- 
tinually be  the  fubje6l  of  an  immenfe  number  of 
real,  and  truly  infinitely  ^re^^i  crolfes  and  vexations. 
W^hich  would  be  to  make  him  infinitely  the  moft 
miferable  of  all  Beings. 

If  any  obje6lor  fhould  fay  ;  all  that  thefe  things 
amount  to,  is,  that  God  may  do  evil  that  good  may 
come  ;  which  is  juftly  efteemed  immoral  and  finful 
in  men  ;  and  therefore  may  be  jufl;ly  efi;eemed  in- 
confifl:ent  with  the  moral  perfections  of  God.  I 
anfwer,  that  for  God  to  difpofe  and  permit  evil,  in 
the  manner  that  has  been  fpoken  of,  is  not  to  do 
evil  that  good'may  come  ;  for  it  is  not  to  do  evil 
at  all. — In  order  to  a  thing's  being  morally  evil, 
there  mufi;  be  one  of  thefe  things  belonging  to  it  : 
either  it  muft  be  a  thing  unjit  and  unfuiiable  in  its 
own  nature  ;  or  it  mufi:  have  a  bad  tendency  ;  or  it 
mufi:  proceed  from  an  evil  difpofition^  and  be  done 
for  an  evil  end.  But  neither  of  thefe  things  can 
be  attributed  to  God's  ordering  and  permitting  fuch 

X    2 


246  Of  GOD*s  fccret  Part  IV. 

events,  as  the  immoral  a6ls  of  creatures,  for  good 
ends,  (i.j  It  is  not  unfit  in  its  own  nature^  that  He 
fhould  do  To.  For  it  is  in  its  own  narure  j^^,  that 
infinite  wifdom,  and  not  blind  chance,  fhould  difpofe 
moral  good  and  evil  in  the  world.  And  it  is  Jit, 
that  the  Being  who  has  infinite  wijdorn,  and  is  the 
IvLsker,  Owner,  and  Supreme  Governor  of  the  world, 
fhould  take  care  of  that  matter.  And,  therefore, 
there  is  no  unfitnefs,  or  unfuiLablenefs  in  his  doing 
it.  It  may  be  unlit,  and  fo  immoral,  for  any  other 
beings  to  go  about  to  order  this  affair  ;  becaufe 
they  are  not  pollefl'ed  of  a  wifdom,  that  in  any  man- 
ner fits  them  for  it  ;  and,  in  other  refpe^s,  they 
are  not  fit  to  be  truiled  wiili  this  afrair  ;  nor  does 
it  belong  to  them,  they  not  being  the  owners  and 
lords  of  the  univerfe. 

We  need  not  be  afraid  to  afTirm,  that  if  a  wife 
and  good  man  knew  with  abfolute  certainty,  it  would 
be  befl,  all  things  confidered,  that  there  fliould  be 
fuch  a  thing  as  moral  evil  in  the  world,  it  would 
not  be  contrary  to  his  wifdom  and  goodnefs,  for 
him  to  choofe  that  it  fhould  be  fo.  It  is  no  evil 
defire,  to  defire  good,  and  to  defire  that  which,  all 
things  confidered,  is  belt.  And  it  is  no  unwifechoice, 
to  choofe  that  that  fhould  be,  which  it  is  befl  fhould 
be  ;  and  to  choofe  the  exiPience  of  that  thing  con- 
cerning which  this  is  known,  viz.  that  it  is  befl  it 
Ihouid  be,  and  fo  is  known  in  the  whole  to  be  moll 
worthy  to  be  chofen.  On  the  contrary,  it  would 
be  a  plain  defe£l  in  wifdom  and  goodnefs,  for  him 
not  to  choofe  it.  And  the  real'bn  why  he  might  not 
order  it,  if  he  were  able,  would  not  be  bccaufe  he 
might  not  defire  if,  but  only  the  ordering  of  that 
matter  does  not  belong  to  h'm.  But  it  is  no  harm 
for  Him  who  is,  by  right,  and  in  the  greatefl  pro- 
priety, the  Supreme  Orderer  of  all  things,  to  order 
cvtry  thing  in  fuch  a  manner,  as  it  would  be  a 


Sea.  IX.  GJid  revealed  IVllL 


347 


point  of  wifdom  in  Ilim  to  choofe  that  they  fliould 
be  ordered.  If  it  would  be  a  plain  defe6l  of  wif- 
dom  and  noodnefs  in  a  Being,  not  to  choofe  that 
that  ftiould  be,  which  He  certainly  knows  it  would, 
all  things  confidered,  be  bed  fliould  be  (as  was  but 
now  obfervcd)  then  it  mull  be  impoflible  for  a  Be- 
ing who  has  no  defeil  of  wifdom  and  goodnefs,  to 
do  otherwife  than  choofe  it  (hould  be  ;  and  that, 
for  this  very  reafon,  becaufe  He  is  perfectly  wife 
and  good.  And  if  it  be  agreeable  to  perfedl  wif- 
dom and  goodnefs  for  him  to  choofe  that* it  fhould 
be,  and  the  ordering  of  all  things  fupremely  and 
perfedly  belongs  to  him,  it  mud  be  agreeable  to  in- 
finite wifdom  and  goodnefs,  to  order  that  it  fliould 
be.  If  the  choice  is  good,  the  ordering  and  difpof- 
ing  things  according  to  that  choice  mufl  alfo  be 
good.  It  can  be  no  harm  in  one  to  whom  it  be- 
longs to  do  his  Will  in  the  armies  of  heave?!,  and  aiuongjt 
the  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  to  execute  a  good  volition. 
If  this  Will  be  good,  and  the  object  ot  his  \Vi,ll  be, 
all  things  confidered,  good  and  bed,  then  the  choof- 
ing  or  willing  i^,  is  not  willing  evil  that  good  may 
come.  And  if  fo,  then  his  ordering,  according  to 
that  Will,  is  not  doing  evil,  that  good  may  come. 

2.  It  is  not  of  a  bad  tendency,  for  the  Supreme 
Being  thus  to  order  and  permit  that  moral  evil  to 
be,  which  it  is  bed  diould  come  to  pafs.  For  that 
it  is  of  good  tendency,  is  the  very  thing  fuppofed 
in  the  point  now  in  quedion. — Chrid's  crucifixion, 
though  a  mod  horrid  faft  in  them  that  perpetrated 
it,  was  of  mod  glorious  tendency  as  permitted  and 
ordered  of  God. 

3.  Nor  is  there  any  need  cf  fuppofing  it  proceeds 
from  any  evil  difpofiiion  or  aim  :  for  by  the  fuppofi- 

tion,  what  is  aimed  at  is  good,  and  goud  is  the  attual 
iifuCj  in  the  final  refult  of  things. 


348  OJ  Sins  Erft  Entrance  Part  IV 

Section     X. 
Concerning  Sin's  fir  ft  Entrance  into  the  World. 

1  HE  things,  which  have  already  been  offered,  may 
ferve  to  obviate  or  clear  many  of  the  obje61ions 
which  might  be  raifed  concerning  Sin's  firft  coming 
into  the  world  ;  as  though  it  would  follow  from 
the  dodrine  maintained,  that  God  muft  be  the  Auth- 
or of  the  firfl  Sin,  through  his  fo  difpofing  things, 
that  it  fhouid  neceffarily  follow  from  his  permifTion, 
that  the  finful  a6l  fhouid  be  committed,  8cc.  I 
need  not,  therefore,  ftand  to  repeat  what  has  been 
faid  already,  about  fuch  a  necefTity's  not  proving 
God  to  be  the  Author  of  Sin,  in  any  ill  fenfe,  or  in 
any  fuch  fenfe  as  to  infringe  any  liberty  of  man, 
concerned  in  his  moral  agency,  or  capacity  of  blame, 
guilt  and  punifhment. 

But,  if  It  (hould  neverthelefs  be  faid,  fuppofing 
the  cafe  lb,  that  God,  when  he  had  made  man,  might 
fo  order  his  circumftances,  that  from  thefe  circum- 
ilances,  together  with  his  withholding  further  af- 
fiflance  and  Divine  Influence,  his  Sin  would  infal- 
libly follow,  why  might  not  God  as  well  have  firft 
made  man  with  a  fixed  prevailing  principle  of  Sin 
in  his  heart  ? 

I  anfwer,  i.  It  was  meet,  if  Sin  did  come  into 
exiftence,  and  appear  in  the  world,  it  fliould  arife 
from  the  imperfedion  which  properly  belongs  to  a 
creature,  as  fuch,  and  fliould  appear  fo  to  do,  that 
it  might  appear  not  to  be  from  God  as  the  efEcient 
or  fountain.  But  this  could  not  have  been,  if  man 
had  been  made  at  firft  with  Sin  in  his  heart  ;  nor 
unlefs  the  abiding  principle  and  habit  of  Sin  were 
firft  introduced  by  an  evil  atl  of  the  creature.  If 
Sin  had  not  arofe  from  the  imperfe6lion  of  the  crea- 


Sea.  X.  into  the  World.  g^q 

ture,  it  would  not'have  been  fo  vifible,  that  it  did 
not  arife  from  God,  as  the  pofitive  caufe,  and  real 
fource  of  it. — But  it  would  require  room  that  can- 
not be  here  allowed,  fully  to  confider  all  the  diffi- 
culties which  have  been  ftarted,  concerning  the  firft 
Entrance  of  Sin  into  the  world. 

And  therefore, 

2.  I  would  obferve,  that  obje6lions  againfl:  the 
do6lrine  that  has  been  laid  down,  in  oppofition  to 
the  Arminian  notion  of  liberty,  from  thefe  difficul- 
ties, are  altogether  impertinent ;  becaufe  no  addi- 
tional difficulty  is  incurred,  by  adhering  to  a  fcheme 
in  this  manner  difFering  from  theirs,  and  none  would 
be  removed  or  avoided,  by  agreeing  with,  and  main- 
taining theirs.  Nothing  that  the  Arininians  fay, 
about  the  contingence,  or  felf-determining  power  of 
man's  will,  can  ferve  to  explain,  with  lefs  difficulty, 
how  the  firfl  finful  volition  of  mankind  could  take 
place,  and  man  be  juftly  charged  with  the  blame  of 
it.  To  fay,  the  Will  was  felf-determined,  or  deter- 
mined by  free  choice,  in  that  finful  volition  ;  which 
is  to  fay,  that  the  firfl  finful  volition  was  determin- 
ed by  a  foregoing  finful  volition  ;  is  no  folution  of 
the  difficulty.  It  is  an  odd  way  of  folvincr  difficul- 
ties, to  advance  greater,  in  order  to  it.  To  fay,  two 
and  two  makes  nine;  or,  that  a  child  begat  his  fath- 
er, folves  no  difficulty  :  no  more  does  it,  to  fav,  the 
firft  finful  a6l  of  choice  was  before  the  firfl  finful  2^St 
of  choice,  and  chofe  and  determined  it,  and  brouoht 
it  to  pafs.  Nor  is  it  any  better  folution.  to  fay.  the 
firfl  finful  volition  chofe,  determined  and  produced 
itfelf ;  which  is  to  fay,  it  was  before  it  was.  Nor 
will  it  go  any  further  towards  helping  us  over  the 
difficulty  to  fay,  the  firfl  finful  volition  arole  acci- 
dentally, without  any  caufe  at  all  ;  any  more  than  it 
will  folve  that  difficult  qucflion.  How  the  world  cculd 
he  made  out  gJ  nothing  ?  to  fay,  it  came  into  being  out 


350  OJ  the  Objeaion  Part  IV. 

of  nothing,  without  any  caufe  ;  as  has  been  already 
obferved.  And  if  we  fhould  allow  that  that  could 
be,  that  the  firft  evil  volition  fliuuld  aiife  by  perfe6i: 
accident,  without  any  caufe  ;  it  would  relieve  no 
difficulty,  about  God's  laying  the  blame  of  it  to  man. 
For  how  was  man  to  blame  for  peiFe6t  accident, 
which  had  no  caufe,  and  which,  therefore,  he  (to  be 
jure)  was  not  the  caufe  of,  an}^  more  than  if  it  came 
by  Tome  external  caufe  ? — Such  kind  of  folutions  are 
no  better,  than  if  fome  perfon,  going  about  to  folve 
fome  of  the  ftrange  mathematical  paradoxes^  about 
infinitely  great  and  fmall  quantities  ;  as,  that  fome 
infinitely  great  quantities  are  infinitely  greater  than 
fome  other  infinitely  great  quantities  ;  and  alfo  that 
fome  infinitely  fmail  quantities,  are  infinitely  lefs 
than  others,  which  yet  are  infinitely  little  ;  in  order 
to  a  folution,  fhould  fay,  that  mankind  have  been 
under  a  miftake,  in  fuppofing  a  greater  quantity  to 
exceed  a  fmaller;  and  that  a  hundred,  multiplied 
by  ten,  makes  but  a  fingle  unit. 


Section     XL 

OJ  afuppofcd  Inconfiflcnce  ojthefe  Principles  with  GOD*s 
moral   Chara6ler. 

i  HE  things  which  have  been  already  obferved,  may 
be  luflicient  to  anfwer  mod  of  the  objedions,  and 
filcnce  the  great  exclamations  of  Arminicins  againd 
the  Calvinifls,  froui  the  luppofed  inconliflence  of  Cal- 
vinijlic  principles  with  the  moral  perfections  of  God, 
as  excrcifcd  in  his  government  of  mankind.  The 
confidence  of  fuch  a  do6frine  tf  ncccflity  as  has  been 
maintained,  with  the  fitncfs  and  reafonablencfs  of 
God's  commands,  promifes  and  threatenings,  rewards 


Se6l.  XL      from  God*s  moral  CharaQcr.  351 

and  punifliments,  has  been  particularly  confidered  : 
the  cavils  of  our  opponents,  as  thou:;h  our  do6lrine 
of  neceflTity  made  God  the  aiuhor  of  fin,  have  been 
anfwercd  ;  and  aUo  their  ohjeftion  againll  thefc  prin- 
ciples,   as  inconhdcnt    w'vh  God's  iincerity,    in    his 
counfels,  invitations  and  perfayfions,  has  bc;:n  alrea- 
dy obviated,   in  what  has  been  obferved,  rcfpeding 
the  confidence  of  what  Calviriifts  fuppofc,  concerning 
the  fecret  and  revealed  Will  of  God  ;   by  that  it  ap- 
pears, there  is  no  repugnance  in  fuppofmg  it  may  be 
the  fecret  Will  of  God,  that  his  ordination  and  per- 
miilion   of  evenis  fliould  be  fuch,    that  it  (hall  be  a 
certain  conreqi>ence,  that  a  thing  never  will  come  to 
plafs  ;  which  yet  it  is  man's  duty  to  do,  and  fo  God's 
perceptive  Will  that  he  fliould  do  ;  and    this  is    the 
fame  thing  as  to  fay,    God  may   fiticerely  command 
and  require  him  to  do  it.     And  if  he  may  be  fincere 
in  com«manding  him,  he  may,  for  the  fime  rcafon,  be 
fincere  in  couni'eiling,  inviting  and  ufmg  perfuafions 
with  him   to  do  it.     Counfeis   and  invitations  are 
manifeflations  of  God's  perceDtive3'v'iil,  or  of  what 
God  loves  and  what  is    in    itfelf,   and  as  man's  a6i", 
agreeable  to  his  heart ;  and  not  of  his  difpohng  Will, 
and  what  he  choofcs  as  a  part   of  his    own   infinite 
fcheme  of  things.      It   has   been  particularly  fiiewn, 
Part  III.   Se6t.  IV.   that  fuch  a  neccfhty  as  has  been 
maintained,  is  not  inconfifLent  wiih  the  propriety  and 
fitnefs  of  divine  commands ;  and  for  the  fame  reafon, 
not    inconfiftcnt  with  the  fmcerity   and   invitationi 
and  counfels,  in  the  Corollary  at  the  end  of  the  Sec- 
tion.    Yea,  it  hath  been  fliewn,  Part  III.  Sc6l.  VII. 
Corol.  1,  that  this  objeQion  of  Arminians,  concern- 
ing the  fmceiity  and  ufe  of  divine  exhortations,  in- 
vitations and  counfels,  is  dcmonllrably  againfl  ihem- 
felvcs. 

NctwithRandinn:,  I  would  fur-her  obferve,  that  the 
difficulty  cf  reconciling  the  finccrity  of  counfels,  in- 


35*  OJ  the  Objeaion  Part  IV. 

vitations  and  perfuafions  with  fuch  an  antecedent 
known  (ixednefs  of  all  events,  as  has  been  fuppofed, 
is  not  peculiar  to  this  fcheme,  as  diftinguiOied  from 
that  of  the  generality  of  Arminians,  which  acknowl- 
edge the  abfolute  foreknowledge  of  God  :  and  there- 
fore, it  would  be  unreafonably  brought  as  an  objec- 
tion againfi;  my  differing  from  them.  The  main 
feeming  difficulty  in  the  cafe  is  this  :  that  God,  in 
counfelling,  inviting  and  perfuading,  makes  a  fhew 
of  aiming  at,  feeking  and  ufing  endeavours  for  the 
thing  exhorted  and  perfuaded  to  ;  whereas,  it  is  im- 
poffible  for  any  intelligent  being  truly  to  feek,  or  ufe 
endeavours  for  a  thing,  which  he  at  the  fame  time 
knows,  moft  perfedly,  will  not  come  to  pafs  ;  and 
that  it  is  abfurd  to  fuppofe,  he  makes  the  obtaining 
of  a  thing  his  end,  in  his  calls  and  counfels,  which 
he,  at  the  fame  time,  infallibly  knows  will  not  be 
obtained  by  thefe  means.  Now,  if  God  knows  this, 
in  the  utmoPi  certainly  and  perfe£lion,  the  way  by 
which  he  comes  by  this  knowledge  makes  no  differ- 
ence. If  he  knows  it  is  by  the  necelTity  which  he 
fees  in  things,  or  by  fome  other  means  ;  it  alters  not 
the  cafe.  But  it  is  in  efFeft  allowed  by  Arminians 
themfelves,  that  God's  inviting  and  perfuading  men 
to  do  things,  which  he  at  the  fame  time,'  certainly 
knows  will  not  be  done,  is  no  evidence  of  infincerity ; 
becaufe  they  allow,  that  God  has  a  certain  fore- 
knowledge of  all  men's  linful  a6lions  and  omi/Iions. 
And  as  this  is  thus  implicitly  allowed  by  moft  Armin- 
ians,  fo  all  that  pretends  to  own  the  Scriptures  to  be 
the  word  of  God,  muft  be  conflrained  to  allow  it.-»-. 
God  commanded  and  counielled  Pharaoh  to  let  his 
people  go,  and  ufed  arguments  and  perfuafions  to 
induce  him  to  it ;  he  laid  before  him  arguments  taken 
from  his  infmite  Greatnefs  and  almighty  Power, 
(Exod  vii.  16,)  and  forewarned  him  of  the  fatal  con- 
fequences  of  his  refufal,  from  time  to  time ;  (chap* 


Seft,  XT.     from  God*s  moral  Chara6ler.  353 

viii.  1,  2,  20,  2  1.  chap.  ix.  1, — 5,  13, — 17,  and  x.  3, 
6,)  He  commanded  Mofes,  and  the  elders  of  Ifreal, 
to  go  and  befeech  Pharaoh  to  let  the  people  go  ;  and 
at  the  fame  time  told  them,  he  knew  furely  that 
he  would  not  comply  to  it.  Exod.  iii.  18,  19.  And 
thou  Jlialt  come,  thou  and  the  elders  of  Jfracl,  unto  the 
king  of  Egypt,  and  youjfiall  fay  unto  him;  the  Lord  God 
of  the  Hebrcivs  hath  met  with  us  ;  and  now  let  us  go.  we 
hefeech  thee,  three  days  journey  into  the  wildernefs,  that 
we  may  facrificc  unto  the  Lord^w  God  .*  and,  I  am  fur  e, 
that  the  king  of  Egypt  will  not  let  you  go.  So  our  blcIF- 
ed  Saviour,  the  evening  wherein  he  was  betrayed, 
knew  that  Peter  would  fhamefully  deny  him.  before 
the  morning  ;  for  he  declares  it  to  him  with  afifever- 
ations,  to  fhew  the  certainty  of  it ;  and  teils  the  dif- 
ciples,  that  ail  of  them  fhould  be  offended  becaufe  of 
him  that  night ;  Matihew^  xxvi.  3  t — 35.  John  xiii. 
38.  Luke  xxTu  31—34.  [ohn  xvi.  32.  And  yet  it 
was  their  duty  to  avoid  thefe  things  :  they  were  verj 
finful  things,  which  God  had  forbidden,  and  which 
it  was  their  duty  to  watch  and  pray  againft ;  and  they 
were  obliged  to  do  fo  from  the  counfels  and  pcrfuafions 
Chrifl  ufed  with  them,  at  that  very  time,  fo  to  do  ; 
Matthew  xxvi.  41.  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not 
into  temptation.  So  that  whatever  difficuhy  there  cant 
be  in  this  matter,  it  can  be  no  objeftion  again H:  any 
principles  which  have  been  maintained  in  oppolition 
to  the  principles  of  Arminians ;  nor  does  it  any  more 
concern  me  to  remove  the  difficulty,  than  it  docs 
them,  or  indeed  all,  that  call  tliemlelves  Chriftians, 
and  acknowledge  the  divine  authority  of  the  Scrip- 
tures,— Neverthelefs,  this  matter  may  pofTibly  (God 
allowing)  be  more  particulaily  and  largely  confider- 
ed»  in  fome  future  difcourfe,  on  the  do^lTtiine  of  prC" 
defiination. 

But  I  would  here  obferve,  that  however  the  defend* 
ers  of  that  notion  of  liberty  of  Will,  which  I  have  op- 

Ya 


354  0/ the  Ohjtaion,  &.C.  Part  IV. 

pofed,  exclaim  again  ft:  the  do£lrine  of  Calvinifts,  as 
tending  to  bring  men   into   doubts    concerning   the 
moral  perlediions  of  God;  it  is  their  fchems,  and  not 
the  fchemc  of  Ctf/t;nz2/?5,  that  indeed  is  juftly  chargea- 
ble with  this.     For  it  is  one  of  the  mod  fundamental 
points  of  their   fchemc  of  things,  that  a  freedom  of 
Will/confiding  infelf-determination,  without  all  ne- 
cefiity,  is  eifcntuii  to  moral  agency.     This  is  the  fame 
thing  as  to  fiiy,  that  fuch  a  deierminationof  the  Will, 
without  all  neceffity,  mull  be  in  all  intelligent  beings, 
in  thofe  things,  wherein  they  are  vzoral  agents,  or  in 
their  moral  ath  :   and  from  this    it  will  follow,  that 
God's  Will  is  not  neceffarily  determined,  in  any  thing 
he  does,  as  a  7noral  agent,   or  in  any  of  his  ath  that 
are  of  a  moral  nature  :   So  that  in  all  things,  wherein 
he  a6ls  hohly,  jujily  and  trulyy  he  does  not  a6l  necefl'a- 
rily  ;  or  his  Wiil  is  not  neceffarily  determined,  to  a61; 
bolily  and  juflly ;   becaufe,  if  it  were  neceffarily  de- 
termined, he  would  not  be  a  moral  agent  in  thus  ail- 
ing :   his  Will   would    be    attended   with  neceffity ; 
which,  they  fay,   is   inconfiflent  wiih  moral  agency  : 
'^  He  can  a6i:  no  otherwife  :   He  is  at  no  liberty  in  the 
*'  afFair  :   He  is  determined  by  unavoidable  invinci- 
"  ble  neceffity  :   therei'ore  fuch   agency  is  no  moral 
'•'  agency  ;  yea,  no  agency  at  all,  properly  fpeaking  : 
**  A  neceffary  agent  is  no  agent  :   He  being  paffive, 
"  and  (ubjfdl  to  neceffity,   what  he  does  is  no  a6t  of 
**  his,  but  an  efFcd^  of  a  neceffity  prior  to  any  a6l  of 
*'  his/*     This  is  agreeable  to  their  manner  of  argu- 
ing.    Now  then,  what  is  become  of  all  our  proof  of 
the  moral  perfections  of  God  ?   How  can  we  prove, 
that  God  certainly  will,  in  any  one  indance,  do  that 
which  is  judand  holy  ;   leeing  his  Willis  determined 
in  ihe  matter  by  no  neceffity  ?  We  have  no  other  way 
orpioving  that  any  thing  certainly  will  be,  but  only  by 
the  necedity  of  the  event.    Where  we  can  fee  no  necef- 
fity but  that  the  thing  may  be,  or  may  not  be,  there 


Se£l.  XI.      0/Arminian  Ar^iinunts,  Sec,  355 

we  are  unavoidably  left  at  a  lofs.  We  have  no  oth- 
er way  properly  and  truly  to  demonftrate  the  moral 
perfcQions  of  God,  but  the  way  that  Mr.  Chubb 
proves  them  in  p.  252,  261,  262,  263,  of  his  Tratts, 
viz,  that  God  mud  ncceffaiijy  perfe6l!y  know,  what 
isi  mod  worthy  and  valuable  in  itfelf,  which,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  is  befl  and  fitteft  to  be  done.  And, 
as  this  is  mofi.  eligible  in  itfelf,  He,  being  omnifcient, 
ninfl  fee  it  to  be  To  ;  and  being  both  omnifcient  and 
felf-fufiicient,  cannot  have  any  temptation  to  reje6l 
it  ;  and  fomufl  neceffarily  Will  that  which  is  bed. 
And  thus,  by  this  neceflity  of  the  determination  of 
God's  Will  to  what  is  good  and  bell,  we  demondra- 
bly  eftablifh  God's  moral  charaQer. 

Coi'ol.  From  things  v/hich  have  been  ob[(ii'ved,  it 
appears,  that  mod  of  the  arguments  from  Scripture, 
which  Arminians  make  ufe  of  to  fupport  their  fcheme, 
are  no  other  than  begging  the  quejlion.  For  in  thefe 
their  arguments,  they  determine  in  the  'fird  place, 
that  without  fuch  a  freedom  of  Will  as  they  hold, 
men  cannot  be  proper  moral  agents,  nor  the  fubjefts 
of  command,  counfel,  perfuahon,  invitation,  prom- 
ifes,  threatenings,  expoliulations,  rewards  and  pun- 
ifhments  ;  and  that  without  luch  freedom  it  is  to  no 
purpofe  for  men  to  take  any  care,  or  ufe  any  dili- 
gence, endeavours  or  means,  in  order  to  their  avoid- 
ing fin,  or  becoming  holy,  efcaping  punidiment  or 
obtaining  happinefs  :  and  having  fappofed  thefe 
things,  which  are  grand  things  in  quedion  in  the  de- 
bate, then  they  heap  up  Scriptures,  containing  com- 
mands, counfels,  calls,  warnings,  perfuafions,  expof- 
tulations,  promifes,  and  threatenings  ;  (as  doubtlefs 
they  may  find  enough  fuch  ;  the  Bible  is  confededly 
full  of  them,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end)  and  thea 
they  glory,  how  full  the  Scripture  is  on  their  fide, 
how  many  more  texts  there  are  that  evidently  favour 
their  fcheme,  than  fuch  as  feem  to  favour  the  con- 


356  Whether  thefe  Principles  Part  IV. 

trary.  But  let  thim  firfl:  make  manifeft  the  things 
in  queftion,  which  they  fuppofe  and  take  for  granted, 
and  fliew  them  to  be  confiltent  with  themfelves ;  and 
produce  clear  evidence  of  their  truth  ;  and  they  have 
gained  their  point,  as  all  will  confefs,  without  bring- 
ing one  Scripture.  For  none  denies,  that  there  are 
commands,  counfels,  promiles,  threatenings,  &c.  in 
the  Bible.  But  unlefs  they  do  theie  things,  their 
multiplying  fuch  texts  of  Scripture  is  iafignificant 
and  vain. 

It  may  further  be  obferved,  that  fuch  Scriptures, 
as  they  biing,  are  really  againft  them,  and  not  for 
them.  As  it  has  been  demonflrated,  that  it  is  their 
fcheme,  and  not  ours,  that  is  inconfiilent  with  the  ul'e 
of  motives  and  perfuafives,  or  any  moral  means  whaf- 
foever,  to  induce  men  to  the  prattice  of  virtue,  or  ab- 
ftaining  from  wickednefs  :  their  principles,  and  net 
ours,  are  repugnant  to  moral  agency,  and  inconfiil- 
ent with  moral  government,  with  law  or  precept, 
v/ith  the  nature  of  virtue  or  vice,  reward  or  punith- 
xnent,  and  with  every  thing  whatfoever  of  a  moral 
nature,  either  on  the  part  of  the  moral  governor,  or 
in  the  ftate,  a6lions  or  condu6l  of  the  fubje6t» 


S   E   p   T   I   o   N      XII. 

0/ a  Juppofed  Tendency  of  thefe  Principles  to  Atheifra 
and  Licentioulnefs. 

J[f  any  object  againfl  what  has  been  maintained,  that 
it  tends  to  Atheijm  ;  1  know  not  on  what  grounds 
fuch  an  objeftion  can  be  raifed,  unlefs  it  be,  that 
fome  Atheifts  have  held  a  dodUine  of  neceflity  which 
they  fuppofe  to  be  like  this.  But  if  it  be  fo,  lam 
perfuaded  the  Arminiam  would  not  look  upon  it  juft, 


Seft.  XII.  tend  to  Athcifm.  357 

that  their  notion  of  freedom  and  contingence  (liould 
be  charged  with  a  tendency  to  all  the  errors  that  ev- 
er any  embraced,  who  have  held  luch  opinions. — 
The  Stoic  philolophers,  whom  the  Calvinifls  are 
charged  with  agreeing  with,  were  no  Athcifts,  but 
the  greated  TheKts  and  nearell  a-kin  to  Chriftians  in 
their  opinions  concerning  the  unity  and  the  perfec- 
tions of  the  Godhead,  of  all  the  heathen  philofophers. 
And  Epicurus,  that  chief  father  of  Atlicifm,  main- 
tained no  fuch  doQrine  of  necellitVj  but  was  the 
greatell  maintainer  of  contingence. 

The  do6trine  of  neceffi(y,  which  fuppofes  a  necef- 
fary  connexion  of  all  events,  on  fome  antecedent 
ground  and  reafon  of  their  exiftence,  is  the  only  me- 
dium we  have  to  prove  the  being  of  God.  And  the 
contrary  dodirine  of  contingence,  even  as  maintained 
by  Jrmimans  (which  certainly  implies  or  infers,  that 
events  may  come  into  exillence,  or  begin  to  be,  with- 
out dependence  on  any  thing  foregoing,  as  their  caufe, 
ground  or* reafon)  takes  av/ay  all  proof  of  the  being 
of  God;  which  proof  is  fummarily  exprefied  by  the 
apoille,  in  Rom.  i.  20.  And  this  is  a  tendency  to 
Atheijm  with  a  witnefs.  So  that,  indeed,  it  is  the 
dodrine  of  Ar7ninians,  and  not  of  the  Caloimjls^  that 
is  juftly  charged  with  a  tendency  to  Atheijm ;  it  be- 
ing buiit  on  a  foundation  that  is  the  utter  fubverfion 
of  every  demonftrative  argument  for  the  proof  of  a 
Deity;  as  has  been  (liown,  Part  II.  Sec.  III. 

And  whereas  it  has  often  been  faid.  that  the  CaU 
vinifiic  doQrine  of  neceffuy  Taps  the  foundations  of 
all  religion  and  virtue,  and  tends  to  the  greateft  Li- 
centioulnefs  of  practice :  this  obje6lion  is  built  on  the 
pretence,  that  our  dodrine  renders  vain  all  means 
and  endeavours,  in  order  to  be  virtuous  and  reli- 
gious. Which  pretence  has  been  already  particu- 
larly confidered  in  the  5th  Scilion  of  this  Part ;  where 
it  has  been  demoiiiIt\.ted,  that  this  dodiinc  has  no 


358  Whether  thffe  Principles  Part  IV. 

fuch  temiency ;  but  that  fuch  a  tendency  is  truly  to 
be  charged  on  the  contrary  do6line:  inalmuch  as  the 
notion  of  conringence,  which  their  do6trine  implies, 
in  its  certain  confequences,  overthrows  all  connex- 
ion in  every  degree,  between  endeavour  and  event, 
means  and  end. 

And  befides,  if  many  other  things,  which  have  been 
obferved  to  belong  to  the  Arminian  doclrine,  or  to 
be  plain  confequences  of  it,  be  confidered,  there  will 
appear  juft  reafon  to  fuppofe  that,  it  is  that  which 
mufl  rather  tend  to  Licentioufnefs.  Their  dodlrine 
cxcufes  all  evil  inclinations,  which  men  find  to  be 
natural  ;  becaufe  in  fuch  inclinations,  they  are  not 
felf- determined,  as  fuch  inclinations  are  not  owing 
to  any  choice  or  determination  of  their  own  Wills. 
Which  leads  men  wholly  to  juHify  themfelves  in  all 
their  wicked  anions,  fo  far  as  natural  inclination  has 
had  a  hand  in  determining  their  Wills,  to  the  com- 
mifhon  of  them.  Yea,  thefe  notions,  which  fuppofe 
moral  necellity  and  inability  to  be  inconfiflent  with 
blame  or  moral  obligation,  will  dire6lly  lead  men  to 
juftify  the  vileft  a6ls  and  pradifes,  from  the  flrength 
of  their  wicked  inclinations  of  all  forts  ;  (Irong  in- 
clinations inducing  a  moral  necefiTity  ;  yea,  to  excufe 
every  degree  of  evil  inclination,  fo  far  as  this  has  evi- 
dently prevailed,  and  been  the  thing  which  has  de- 
termined their  Wills  :  becaufe,  fo  far  as  antecedent 
inclination  determined  the  Will,  fo  far  the  Will  was 
without  liberty  of  indifference  and  felf-determination. 
Which,  at  laft,  will  come  to  this,  that  men  will  juf- 
tify themfelves  in  all  the  wickednefs  they  commit. 
It  has  been  obferved  already,  that  this  fcheme  of 
things  does  exceedingly  diminifti  the  guilt  of  fin,  and 
the  difference  between  the  greateft  and  fmallefl  of- 
fences ;*  and  if  it  be  purfued  in  its  real  confequences, 

*  Part  III.  ScB  VI. 


Se6l.  XII.         knd  to  Licentioufnefs. 


359 


it  leaves  room  for  no  fuch  thing,  as  either  virtue  or 
vice,  blame  or  praife  in  the  world.  *  And  then  again, 
howr  naturally  does  this  notion  of  the  fovereign  felf- 
determiningpower  of  the  Will,  in  all  things,  virtuous 
or  vicious,  and  whatfoever  deferves  eiiher  reward 'or 
punifhmenc,  tend  to  encourage  men  to  put  off  the 
work  of  religion  and  virtue,  and  turning  from  fin  to 
God  ;  it  being  that  which  they  have  a  fovereign  pow- 
er to  determine  ihemfelves  to,  juft  when  they  pleafe  ; 
or  if  not,  they  are  wholly  excufabie  in  going  on  in 
fin,  becaufe  of  their  inability  to  do  any  other. 

If  it  fhould  be  faid,  that  the  tendency  of  this  doc- 
trine of  necelTity,   to  Licentioufnels,  appears  by  the 
improvement  many  at  this  day  a6lualiy  make  of  it,  to 
jullify  themfelves  in  their  dilTolute  courfes ;  I  will 
not  deny  that  fome  men  do  unreafonably  abufe  this 
do6lrine,   as  they   do  many  other  things,   which  are 
true  and  excellent  in  their  own  nature  :  but  I  deny 
that  this  proves,  the  doctrine  itfelf  has  any  tendency 
to  Licentioufnefs.     I  think,    the  tendency   of  doc- 
trines, by  what  now  appears  in  the  world,  and  in  our 
nation  in  particular,  may  much  more  juftly  be  argu- 
ed,   from   the   general  effe6l  which  has  been  (ecn  to 
attend  the  prevailing  of  the  principles  of  Anninians, 
and  the  contrary  principles  ;   as  both  have  had  their 
turn  of  general  prevalence  in  our  nation.      If  it  be 
indeed,  as  is  pretended,  that  Calvinijlic  do6frines  un- 
dermine the  very  foundation  of  all  religion  and  mor- 
ality, and  enervate  and  dilannul  all  rational  motives 
to  holy  and  virtuous  pradlice  ;  and  that  the  contraiy 
do6lrines  give  the  inducements  to  virtue  and  goodnels 
their  proper  force,  and  exhibit  religion  in  a  rational 
light,  tending  to  recommend  it  to  the  reafon  of  man- 
kind, and  enforce  it  in  a  manner  that  is  agreeable  to 
their  natural  notions  of  things  :   I  fay,  if  it  be  thus, 

*  Part  III.  Sea.  VI.  Ibid.  Sea.  VII.  Part  IV.  Sc^.  I. 
Part  111.  Se^.  III.  Corol.  i,  after  the  lirfl  Head. 


360  Of  Metaphyfical  Part  IV. 

it  is  remarkable,  that  virtue  and  religious  pradice 
ihould  prevail  mofl,  when  the  former  do£lrines.  fo 
inconfiftent  with  it,  prevailed  aimoll  univcrialjy  : 
and  that  ever  fince  the  latter  doctrines,  fo  happily 
ag'^eeing  with  it,  and  of  fo  proper  and  excellent  a 
tendency  to  promote  it,  have  been  gradually  prevail- 
ing, vice,  prophanenefs,  luxury  and  vvickednefs  of 
all  forts,  and  contempt  of  all  religion,  and  of  every 
kind  of  ferioufnefs  and  ftriclnefs  of  converfation, 
jfhould  proportionably  prevail ;  and  that  thefe  things 
lliould  thus  accompany  one  another,  and  rife  and 
prevail  one  v/ith  another,  now  for  a  whole  age  togeth- 
er. It  is  remarkable,  that  this  happy  remedy  (dif- 
covered  by  the  free  enquiiics,  and  fuperior  fcnfe  and 
wifdom  of  this  age)  againli  the  pernicious  eiTecls  of 
Calvinijm,  fo  inconiiftent  with  religion,  and  tending 
fo  murh  to  banifii  all  virtue  from  the  earth,  (hould, 
on  fo  long  a  trial,  be  attended  with  no  good  effe^l ; 
but  that  the  confequence  fliould  be  the  reverfe  of 
amendment ;  that  in  proportion  as  the  remedy  takes 
place,  and  is  thoroughly  applied,  fo  the  difeafefiiould 
prevail ;  and  the  very  fame  difmal  eiTe6l  take  place, 
to  the  highefl:  degree,  which  Calvinijlic  do£lrines  are 
fuppofed  to  have  fo  great  a  tendency  to;  even  the 
banifliing  of  religion  and  virtue,  and  the  prevailing 
of  unbounded  Licentiou fuels  of  manners.  If  thefe 
things  are  truly  fo,  they  are  very  remarkable,  and 
matter  of  very  curious  fpeculation. 


Section      XIII. 

Concerning  that  ObjeBion  againfl  the  reafoning,  hy  luhich 
the  Calviniflic  doBrine  is  Jupported,  that  it  is  meta- 
phyfical and  abftrufe. 

It  has  often  been  objeded  againfl  the  defenders  of 
Calvinijlic  principles,    that  in   their  reafonings,   they 


Se£l,  XIII.      end  abftrufe  Reafoning.  361 

run  into  nice  fcholaflic  dJ{lin£lions,  and  abftrufe  met- 
aphyfical  fubtilties,  and  fet  thefe  in  oppofitiou  to 
common  fenfe.  And  it  is  poflible,  that,  after  the 
former  manner,  it  may  be  alledged  again  ft  the  reafon- 
ing  by  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  confute  the  Ar- 
minian  fcheme  of  liberty  and  moral  agency,  that;  it  is 
very  abftra61ed  and  metaphyfical.  Concerning  this, 
1  would  obferve  the  following  things. 

I.  If  that  be  made  an  obje6lion  againft  the  fore- 
going Reafoning,  that  it  is  meiaphyfical,  or  may  prop. 
erly  be  reduced  to  the  fcience  of  metaphyfics,  it  is  a 
very  impertinent  obje6lion  ;  whether  it  be  fo  or  no, 
is  not  worthy  of  any  difpute  or  controverfy.  If  the 
Reafoning  be  good,  it  is  as  frivolous  to  enquire  what 
fcience  it  is  properly  reduced  to,  as  what  language  it 
is  delivered  in  :  and  for  a  man  to  go  about  to  confute 
the  arg7iments  of  his  opponent,  by  telling  him,  his 
arguments  are  mctaphyjical^  would  be  as  weak  as  to 
tell  him,  his  arguments  could  not  be  fubftantial,  be- 
caufe  they  were  written  in  French  or  Latin.  The 
queftion  is  not,  whether  what  is  faid^^be  metaphyf- 
ics,  logic,  or  mathematics,  Latin,  French,  Englijh  or 
Mohawk  ?  But  whether  the  Reafoning  be  good,  and 
the  arguments  truly  conclufive  ?  The  foregoing  argu- 
ments  are  no  mor  emetaphyfical,  than  thole  which  we 
ufe  againft  the  Papifts,  to  difprove  their  dodrine  of 
tranfubftantiation  ;  alledging,  it  is  inconfiftent  with 
the  notion  of  corporeal  identity,  that  it  ftiould  be  in 
ten  thoufand  places  at  the  fame  time.  It  is  by  meta- 
phyfical  arguments  only  we  are  able  to  prove,  that 
the  rational  foul  is  not  corporeal  ;  that  lead  or  fand 
cannot  think  ;  that  thoughts  are  not  fquare  or  round, 
or  do  not  weigh  a  pound.  The  arguments  by  which 
we  prove  the  being  of  God,  if  handled  clofely  and 
diftin^Iy,  fo  as  to  fhew  their  clear  and  demonftra- 
tive  evidence,  muft  be  metaphyfically  trcared.  It  is 
by  metaphyfics  only,   that  we  can  dernonftrate,  that 

Z2 


362  QT  Metaphyfical  Part  IV. 

God  is  not  limited  to  a  place,  or  is  not  mutable  ;  that 
he  is  not  ignorant  or  forgefful  ;  that  it  is  impofhble 
for  him  to  lie,  or  be  unjufi:  ;  and  that  there  is  one 
God  only,  and  not  hundreds  or  thoufands.  /And, 
indeed,  we  have  no  fti  i6t  demonftraiion  of  any  thing, 
excepting  mathematical  truths,  but  by  metaphyfics.l 
We  can  have  no  proof,  that  is  properly  demonftra- 
tive,  of  any  one  propofition,  relating  to  the  being 
and  nature  of  God,  his  creation  of  the  world,  the  de- 
pendence of  all  things  on  him,  the  nature  of  bodies 
or  fpirits,  the  nature  of  our  own  fouls,  or  any  of  the 
greai  truths  of  morality  and  natural  religion,  but 
what  is  metaphyfical.  I  am  willing  my  arguments 
Ihould  be  brought  to  the  teft  of  the  [billed  and  jufl- 
ell  Reafon,  and  that  a  clear,  di{lin6l  and  determinate 
meaning  of  the  terms  I  ufe,  fhould  be  infifted  on; 
but  let  not  the  whole  be  reje6led,  as  if  all  were  con- 
futed, by  fixing  on  it  the  epithet,  metaphyfical. 

11.  If  the  reafoning,  which  has  been  made  ufe  of, 
be  in  fome  fenie  metaphyfical,  it  will  not  follow,  that 
therefore  it  muft  needs  be  abftrufe,  unintelligible, 
and  a-kin  to  the  jargon  of  the  fchools.  I  humbly 
conceive,  the  foregoing  reafoning,  at  leaff  to  thofe 
things  which  are  mofl  maierial  belonging  to  it,  de- 
pends on  no  abiliufe  definitions  or  diftin6lions,  or 
terms  without  a  meaning,  or  of  very  ambiguous  and 
undetermined  (ignification,  or  any  points  of  fuch  ab- 
ftraQion  and  fubtiity,  as  tends  to  involve  the  atten- 
tive underftanding  in  clouds  and  darknefs.  '  There 
is  no  high  degree  of  refinement  and  abftrufe  fpecu- 
lation,  in  determining,  that  a  thing  is  not  before  it  is, 
and  fo  cannot  be  the  caufe  of  itfeif ;  or  that  the  firft 
aft  of  free  choice,  has  not  another  a6t  of  free  choice 
going  before  that,  to  excite  or  dirc6i  it ;  or  in  deter- 
mining, thit  no  choice  is  made,  while  the  mind  re- 
mains in  a  ftate  of  abfolute  indifference  ;  that  prefer- 
ence and  equilibrium  never  co-exill;  and  that  there- 


Se6l.  XIII.       ani  abflrufe  Reafoning.  363 

fore  no  choice  is  made  in  a  Rate  of  liberty,  confiRincr 
in  indifference  :  and  that  fo  far  as  the  Will  is  deter- 
mined by  motives,  exhibiting  and  operating  previous 
to  the  ati  of  the  Will,  fo  far  it  is  not  determined  by 
the  aft  of  the  Will  itfelf ;  that  nothing  can  begin  to  be, 
which  before  was  not,  without  a  caufe,  or  iome  an- 
tecedent ground  or  reafon,  why  it  then  begins  to  be; 
that  effetis  depend  on  their  caufes,  and  ar*^  connect- 
ed with  them  ;  that  virtue  is  not  the  worfe,  nor  fin 
the  better,  for  the  ilrength  of  inclination  with  which 
it  is  pradifed,  and  the  difficulty  which  thence  aiifes 
of  doing  otherwife  ;  that  when  it  is  already  infallibly 
known,  that  the  thing  will  be,  it  is  not  a  thing  con- 
tingent whether  it  will  ever  be  or  no  ;  or  that  it  can 
be  truly  faid,  notwithftanding,  that  it  is  not  neceffary 
it  (liould  be,  but  it  either  may  be,  or  may  not  be. 
And  the  like  might  be  obferved  of  many  other  things  ) 
which  belong  to  the  foregoing  Reafoning. 

If  any  fhall  ftill  ftand  to  it,  that  the  foregoing  Reaf- 
oning is  nothing  but  metaphyfical  fophiftry  ;  and 
that  it  mull  be  fo,  that  the  feeming  force  of  the  argu- 
ments all  depends  on  fome  fallacy,  and  while  that  is 
hid  in  the  obfcurity,  which  always  attends  a  great 
degree  of  metaphyfical  abflraclion  and  refinement; 
and  fhall  be  ready  to  fay,  *'  Here  is  indeed  fomething 
**  that  tends  to  confound  the  mind,  but  not  to  fatis- 
**  fy  it :  for  who  can  ever  be  truly  fatisfied  in  it,  that 
"  men  are  fitly  blamed  or  commended,  punifhed  or 
"  rewarded  for  thofe  volitions  which  are  not  from 
"  themfelves,  and  of  whofe  exiftence  they  are  hot  the 
**  caufes.  Men  may  refine  as  much  as  they  pleafe, 
•*  and  advance  their  abftraft  notions,  and  make  out 
**  a  thoufand  feemifig  contradi6lions,  to  puzzle  our 
**  underflandings  ;  yet  there  can  be  no  fatisfadion  in 
«'  fuch  doftrine  as  this  :  the  natural  fenfe  of  the  mind 
**  of  man  will  always  refill  it/'*     I  humbly  conceive, 

*  A  certain  noted  Author  of  the  prefent  age  fays,  the  argu- 
ments  tor  nccejpty  are  nothing  but  qmbblingy  or  logomachy^ 


364  ^I  Metaphyfical  Part  IV, 

that  fuch  an  objeftor,  if  he  has  capacity  and  humil- 
ity and  calmnefsof  fpirit,  fuHicient  iitipartiality,  and 
thoroughly  to  examine  himfeif,  will  find  that  he 
knows  no:  really  what  he  would  be  at ;  and  indeed, 
his  difficulty  is  nothing  but  a  mere  prejudice,  from 
an  inadvertent  cuflomary  ufe  of  words,  in  a  meaning 
that  is  not  clearly  undcrilood,  nor  carefully  iefle£led 

Mfing  words  without  a  meaning,  or  begging  the  quejiion.  I  do 
not  know  what  kind  ot  necefliiy  any  authors,  he  may  have  re- 
ference to,  are  advocates  ior  ;  or  whether  they  have  managed 
their  arguments  well,  or  ilL  As  to  the  argjumenis  1  have  made 
ufe  ot,  it  they  are  quibbles  they  may  be  {hewn  fo  :  fuch  knots 
are  capable  ot  bemg  untied,  and  the  trick  and  cheat  may  be 
deleted  and  plainly  laid  open.  It  this  be  fairly  done,  with 
refpecl  to  the  grounds  and  reafons  1  have  relied  upon,  I  fhall 
have  juft  occafion,  for  the  future,  to  be  filent,  if  not  to  be 
afhamed  of  my  argumentations.  I  am  willing  my  proofs  fliouid 
be  thoroughly  examined  ;  and  if  there  be  nothing  but  begging 
the  queftion,  or  mere  logomachy,  or  difpute  of  words,  let  it  be 
made  raanifeO,  and  fliewn  how  the  feeming  {Irength  of  the  ar- 
gument depends  on  my  ujuig  words  without  a  pieamng,  or 
antes  from  the  ambiguity  of  terms,  or  my  making  ufe  of  words 
in  an  indeterminate  and  unfleady  manner  ;  and  that  the  weight 
of  my  reafons  rcH  mainly  on  fuch  a  foundation  :  and  then,  I 
ihall  either  be  ready  to  retraft  what  I  have  urged,  and  thank 
the  man  that  has  done  the  kind  part,  or  Ihall  be  juflly  expofed 
lor  my  obltinacy. 

The  fame  Author  is  abundant  in  appealing,  in  this  afTair, 
from  what  he  calls  logomachy  and  fophijiry,  to  experience,  A 
perion  can  experience  only  what  palies  in  his  own  mind.  But 
yet,  as  we  may  well  fuppole,  that  all  men  have  the  fame  hu. 
man  faculties  ;  fo  a  man  may  well  argue  from  his  own  ex, 
perience  to  ihat  of  others,  in  things  that  fliew  the  nature  of 
thofe  faculties,  and  the  manner  of  their  operation.  But  then 
one  has  as  good  right  to  alledge  his  experience,  as  another. 
As  to  my  own  experience,  I  find,  that  in  innumerable  things 
I  can  do  as  I  will ;  that  the  motions  of  my  body,  in  many  re- 
fpeBs,  inftantaneoufly  follow  the  a6is  of  my  Will  concerning 
thofe  motions ;  and  that  my  Will  has  fome  command  of  my 
thoughts  ;  and  that  the  a6ls  of  my  Will  are  my  own,  i.  e.  that 
they  are  atls  of  my  Will,  the  volitions  of  my  own  mind  ;  or, 
in  other  words,  that  what  X  will,  1  will.     Which,  I  prefume, 


Se6l.  XIIL       izw^  abflrufe  Reafoning.  ogc 

upon.  Let  the  cbjeQor  refleft  again,  if  he  has  can- 
dor and  patience  enough,  and  does  not  fcorn  to  be  at 
the  trouble  of  clofe  artention  in  the  affair.  He  would 
have  a  man's  volition  hzjrom  himjdj.  Let  it  h^  from 
kimjtlj,  molt  primarily  and  originally  of  any  way  con- 
ceivable ;  that  is,  from  his  own  choice  :  how  will 
that  help  the  matter,  as  to  his  being  juftly  blamed  or 
praifed,  unlets  that  choice  iifelf  be  blame  or  praife- 
woithy  ?  i\nd  how  is  the  choice  itfelf  (an  ill  choice 
for  inftance)  blame- v/orthy,  according  to  thefe  prin- 
ciples, unlefs  that  be  from  himfelf  too,  in  the  fame 
manner;  that  is,  from  his  own  choice  ?  But  (lieoriT, 
inal  and  firft  determining  choice  in  the  affair  is  not 
from  his  choice :  his  choice  is  not  the  caufe  of  it. 
And  if  it  be  from  himfelf  lome  othei  v/ay,  and  not 
from  his  choice,  fui  ely  that  will  not  help  the  matter  : 
If  it  be  not  from  himfelf  of  choice,  then  it  is  not  from 
himfelf  voluntarily  ;  and  if  fo,  he  is  furcly  no  more 
to  blame,  than  if  it  were  not  from  himfelf  at  ail.     Ic 

is  the  fum  of  what  others  experience  in  this  afLir.  But  as  to 
finding  by  experience,  thar  my  Will  is  originally  determined 
by  itfelf;  or  that,  my  Will  firft  choofmg  what  volition  there 
fhall  be,  the  chofen  volition  accordingly  follows  ;  and  that  this 
is  the  firll  rife  ot  the  determination  of  my  Will  in  any  affair  ; 
or  that  any  volition  rifes  in  my  mind  contingently  ;  I  declare 
1  know  nothing  in  myfelf,  by  experience,  ot  this  nature  ;  and 
nothing  that  ever  1  experienced,  carries  the  leafl  appearance 
or  fliadow  of  any  fuch  thing,  or  gives  me  any  more  reafon  to 
fuppofe  or  fufpeti  any  fuch  thing,  than  to  fiippoCe  that  my 
volitions  exifled  twenty  years  before  they  exifted.  It  is  true 
I  find  myfelf  polTefled  ol  my  volitions,  before  I  can  fee  the  ef- 
feftual  power  of  any  caufe  to  produce  them,  (for  the  power 
and  efficacy  of  the  caufe  is  not  feen  bu  "  "  the  eM^zk]  and  this, 
ior  ought  1  know,  may  make  fofne  ima-^  \  that  vohtion  has 
no  caufe,  or  that  it  produces  itlelt.  But  1  -e  no  more  rea. 
fon  from  hence  to  determine  any  fuch  thi,  than  I  have  to 
determine  that  I  gave  myfelf  my  own  being,  r  that  I  came 
into  being  accidentally  without  a  caufe,  becaufe  I  firft  found 
myfelf  poffefled  ot  being,  before  I  had  knowledge  ot  a  caufe 
of  my  being. 


366  Of  Metaphyfical  Reafoning.        Part  IV. 

is  a  vanity,  to  pretend  it  is  a  fuflicient  anfvver  to  this, 
to  fay,  that  it  is  nothing  bat  metaphyfical  refinement 
and  fubiilty,  and  fo  attended  with  obfcurity  and  un- 
certainty. 

If  it  be  the  natural  fenfe  of  our  minds,  that  what 
is  blame-worthy  in  a  man  mufi:  be  from  himfelf,  then 
it  doubtlefs  is  alio,  that  it  muft  be  from  fomething 
had  in  himfelf,  a  had  choice,  or  had  difpofition.  Bat 
then  our  natural  fenfe  is,  that  this  bad  choice  or  dif- 
pofition is  evil  in  itfelf,  and  the  man  blame- worthy 
for  it,  on  its  own  account,  without  taking  into  our  no- 
tion of  its  blame-worthinefs,  another  bad  choice,  or 
difpofition  going  before  this,  from  whence  this  arifes : 
for  that  is  a  ridiculous  abfurdity,  running  us  into  an 
immediate  contradi6licn,  which  our  natural  fenfe  of 
blame-worthinefs  has  nothing  to  do  with,  and  never 
comes  into  the  mind,  nor  is  fuppofed  in  the  judg- 
ment we  naturally  make  of  the  affair.  As  was  de- 
monftrated  before,  natural  fenfe  does  not  place  the 
moral  evil  of  volitions  and  difpofitions  in  the  caufe 
of  them,  but  the  nature  of  them»  An  evil  thing's 
being  FROM  a  man,  or  from  fomething  antecedent 
in  him,  is  notelfential  to  the  original  notion  we  have 
of  blame-worthinefs  :  but  it  is  its  being  the  choice  of 
the  heart ;  as  appears  by  this^  that  if  a  thing  hQjro7n 
us,  and  not  from  our  choice,  it  has  not  the  nature  of 
blame  worthinefs  or  ill-defert,  according  to  our  natu- 
ral fenfe.  When  a  thing  \s,from  a  man,  in  that  fenfe, 
that  it  is  from  his  Will  or  choice,  he  is  to  blame  for 
it,  becaufe  his  Will  is  IN  IT  :  fo  far  as  the  Will  is 
in  it,  blame  is  in  it,  and  no  further.  Neither  do  we 
go  any  further  in  our  notion  of  blame,  to  enquire 
whether  the  bad  Will  be  FROM  a  bad  Will :  there 
is  no  confideration  of  the  original  of  that  bad  Will ; 
becaufe,  according  to  our  natural  apprehenfion,  blame 
originally  coiijijls  in  it.  Therefore  a  thing's  hting  from 
?L  man,  15  a  tecondary  confideration,  in  the  notion  of 


SeQ.  XIIL     A  Fault  ^Arminian  Writers.  367 

blame  or  ill  defeit.  Becaufe  thofe  things,  in  our  ^v- 
ternal  aQions,  are  mod  properly  faid  to  be  from  us, 
which  Tix^jrom  our  choice  ;  and  no  other  external  ac- 
tions, but  thofe  that  are  from  us  in  this  fonfe,  have 
the  nature  of  blame  ;  and  they  indeed,  not  fo  prop- 
erly becaufe  they  are  from  us,  as  becaufe  we  are  in 
them,  i.  e.  our  Wills  are  in  them  ;  not  fo  much  be- 
caufe they  are  from  {omt  property  oi  ours,  as  becaufe 
they  are  our  properties. 

However,  all  thefe  external  anions  bein;;  truly 
from  us,  as  their  c:iufe  ;  and  we  being  fo  ufed,  ia 
ordinary  fpeecb,  and  in  the  common  affairs  of  life, 
to  fpeak  of  men's  a6lions  and  conda6l  that  we  fee, 
and  that  affeCl  human  fociety,  as  deferving  ill  or 
well,  as  worthy  of  blame  or  praife  ;  hence  it  is  come 
to  pafs,  that  philofophers  have  incaulioufly  taken  all 
their  meafures  of  good-and  evil,  praife  and  blame, 
from  the  dictates  of  common  fenfe,  about  thefe  overt 
aBs  of  men  ;  to  the  running  of  every  thing  into  the 
mofl  lamentable  and  dreadful  confufion.  And, 
therefore,  I  obferve, 

III.  It  is  fo  far  from  being  true  (whatever  may 
be  pretended)  that  the  proof  of  the  dodrine  which 
has  been  maintained,  depends  on  certain  abflrufe, 
unintelligible,  metaphylical  terms  and  notions  ;  and 
that  the  .Arminian  fcheme,  without  needing  fuch 
clouds  and  darknefs  for  its  defence,  is  fupponed  by 
the  plain  dictates  of  common  fenfe  ;  that  the  very 
reverfe  is  moft  certainly  true,  and  that  to  a  great  de- 
gree. It  is  fa6t,  that  they,  and  not  we,  have  con- 
founded things  with  metaphyfical,  unintelligible  no- 
tions and  phrafes,  and  have  drawn  them  from  the 
light  of  plain  truth,  into  the  grofs  daiknefs  of  ab- 
flrufe metaphyfical  propofitions,  and  words  without 
a  m.eaning.  Their  pretended  demonflrations  depend 
very  much  on  fuch  unintellible,  metaphyfical  phraf- 
es, as,  JclJ- deter mmatio}}^  and  foverei^nty  of  the  Will  ; 


363  Arminians  too  MeiaphyftcaL        Part  IV. 

and  the  metaphyfical  fenfe  they  put  on  fuch  terms, 
as  nece£it)\  contingency,  aclion,  agency,  &c.  quite  di- 
verfefrom  their  meaning  as  ufedin  common  fpeech  ; 
and  which,  as  they  ufe  them,  are  without  any  con- 
fident meaning,  or  any  manner  of  diftiutt  confiftent 
ideas  ;  as  far  from  it  as  any  of  the  abdrufe  terms 
and  perplexed  phrafes  of  the  peripatetic  philofo- 
phers  or  the  mod  uninteiligibie  jargon  of  the  fchools, 
or  the  cant  of  the  wildefl  fanatics.  ^Yea,  we  may 
be  bold  to  fay,  thefe  metaphyfical  terms,  on  which 
they  build  fo  much,  are  what  they  ufe  without 
knowing  what  they  mean  themfelves  ;  they  are  pure 
metaphyfical  founds,  without  any  ideas  whatfoever 
in  their  minds  to  anfwer  them  ;  inafmuch  as  it  has 
been  demonflrated,  that  there  cannot  be  any  notion 
in  the  mind  confiftent  with  thefe  expreilions,  as  they 
pretend  to  explain  them  ;  becaufe  their  explana- 
tions deftroy  themfelv^es.  No  fuch  notions  as  imply 
feIf-contradi6lion,  and  felf-abolition,  and  this  a  great 
many  ways,  can  fubfiO.  in  the  mind  ;  as  there  can 
be  no  idea  of  a  ivhole  which  is  Icfs  than  any  of  its 
parts,  or  of  folid  extenfion  without  dimenfions,  or 
of  an  efFed  which  is  before  its  caufe. — Arminians 
improve  thefe  terms,  as  terms  of  art,  and  in  their 
metaphyfical  meaning,  to  advance  and  eftablifh  thofe 
things  which  are  contrary  to  common  fenfe,  in  a  high 
degree.  Thus,  inftead  of  the  plain  vulgar  notion  of 
liberty,  u^hich  all  mankind,  in  every  part  of  the  face 
of  the  earth,  and  in  all  ages,  have  ;  confifting  in  op- 
portunity to  do  as  one  plcafes  ;  they  have  introduc- 
ed a  new  ftrange  liberty,  confifting  in  indifference, 
contingencc,  and  felf-dctermination  ;  by  which  they 
involve  themfelves  and  others  in  great  obfcurity, 
and  manifold  grofs  inconfiftence.  So,  inftead  of 
placing  virtue  and  vice,  as  common  fenfe  places 
them  ver^  much,  in  fixed  bias  and  inclination,  and 


gre 


ater  virtue  and  vice  in  flron^er  and  more  eftab- 


o 


Se6l.  XIII.     Arminians  too  Mttaphyfical,  369 

liftied  inclination  ;  thefe,  through  their  refinings  and 
abftrufe  notions,  fuppofe  a  liberty  confifting  in  in- 
difFerence,  to  be  elTential  to  all  virtue  and  vice.  So 
they  have  reaibned  themfelvcs,  not  by  metaphyfic- 
al  diftinftions,  but  metaphyfical  confufion,  into 
many  principles  about  moral  agency,  blame,  praife, 
reward  and  punifhment,  whicli  are,  as  has  been 
ftiewn,  exceeding  contrary  to  the  common  fenfe 
of  mankind  ;  and  perhaps  to  their  own  fenfe, 
which  governs  them  in  common  life. 

A3 


THE 

CONCLUSION 


W'^HfTHER  the  things  which  hr.ve  been  alledgec!, 
me  lu^ble  lO  atu'  t'']erabM  cU.rvvcr  in  ^hc  xv^iys  of  cairn, 
intelligible  and  flritt  re.roriinj,  I  muft  leave  others 
tc  judge  :  but  I  am  fenfib'e  they  are  liable  lo  one 
fort  ot  pnfwer.  It  is  not  unhkeiv,  that  fomf!.  who 
\''alue  themfclves  on  the  Tuppofed  ration :tl  and  gen- 
erous principles  of  the  modern  hfhionahle  divinity, 
will  have  ihcir  indignation  and  dildain  raifed  at  the 
fight  of  this  dircourfe.  and  on  perceiving  what  things 
are  p;e  ended  fo  be  proved  in  it.  And  if  they  think 
it  worthy  of  bein<7  read,  or  of  fo  much  notice  as  to 
fay  much  about  it,  they  may  probably  renew  the 
uiual  exclamations,  with  additional  vehemence  and 
contempt  about  ihQ  fate  of  th  heat htn,  Hobbes' AVa'/^ 
Jity,  and  making  men  me-  e  machines  ;  ^ccumuiarin^  rhe 
terrible  epithets  of  fatal,  unfrujlrable^  inevitable,  irre- 
fijiihle^  Scr.  ^nd  it  may  be.  wih  theaddiion  ot  horrid 
snd  blajphcmous  ;  and  perhaps  much  fkili  may  be  uled 
to  fet  forth  things,  which  have  been  faid,  in  colours 
which  fliall  be  fhockin^  to  the  imaginations,  and 
movin.^;  to  the  paffions  of  th  )re,  who  nave  either  too 
little  capacity,  or  too  m:jch  confjdt-nce  of  the  opin- 
ions they  have  imbibed,  and  con'enspt  of  the  con- 
trary, to  try  the  matter  by  any  Serious  and  circum- 
fpeU  examination.*     Or  difficulties  m^v  be  flartcd 

•  A  writer,   ol  the  prefent  age,   whom  I  have  fcveral  times 
had  octafion  to  menti'^n,   fpc^Rs  once  'dU(\  again  of  (hofe  who 
holi  «he  do6lrine  of  Ntc-^ffity .  as  fcarcelv  wr-nhy  the  n:me  of 
fhihfoph?.rs>~-\  do  noi  .^;.<>vv,    vvhcthc^r         iias  refj-tci  to  air 
particular  notion  oi  ncceihiy,  that  fume  ma)  have  aiamtamed  ; 


The  conclusion.  371 

and  infifled  on.  which  do  nor  beiong  to  the  ^ontro- 
ver'y  ;  bccaulb.  itt  them  be  more  or  Icfs  real,  and 
hi'.rd  to  be  relolved  they  are  not  what  are  owin^  lo 
any  thiriJ  dtftingaiiluiig  ot  this  (cheinc  from  that  ot 
the  Armimans,  and  would  not  be  renioved  nor  diir.in- 
ifhed  by  rtnouncing  the  former,  and  adherin;^  to  the 
lattt^r.  Or  fome"  particular  things  may  be  picked 
out.  which  they  may  think  will  found  harffj-itin  the 
ears  of  the  generality  ;  and  thefe  may  be  glolFod  and 
dc'canted  on,  with  tart  and  coniemp;uous  words  ; 
and  (rom  thence,  the  whoie  treated  with  triu.nph  and 
infult. 

It  IS  eafy  to  fee,  bow  the  decifion  oF  moft  of  the 
points  in  controverfy,  between  CalvLmJls  and  Armm- 
ians,  dtpQnds  on  the  determin  uion  ot  this  grand  ar- 
ticle concerning  the  Freedom  of  the  Will  reqmfite  to  mor- 
al  agency  ;  and  that  by  clearing  and  eftabiithing  the 
Calvmijhc  dotirine  in  tnis  poinc,  thechict  argum^-nts 
are  obviated,  by  which  drminian  dodnnes  in  gener- 
al are  fupported.  and  the  contrary  dottrmes  demon- 
llratively  confirmed.  Hereby  it  becomes  mainlcll, 
that  God's  moral  government  over  mankmd,  his 
treating  them  as  moral  agents,  making  then  the  ob- 
jeds  ol  his  commands,  counlels,  calls,  warnings,  ex- 
poPtulaiions,    promifes,   threatenmgs,    rev/ards  and 

anfl,  if  {o,  what  do61rlne  oi  neccdity  it  is  that  he  means. — 
Whether  1  am  worthy  ot  the  name  ot  d  philofoph'^r,  or  not, 
would  be  a  quelHon  little  to  the  prcient  puipole.  It  any,  .md 
cvcf  fo  many,  fhould  deny  it,  I  ihouid  not  think  it  worth  the 
wiiile  to  entei  into  a  di;puteon  that  qiieltiun  :  thou^^ti  at  the 
faaie  time  1  migi)i  expefct,  fame  betici  c^uiwu  ih  mid  .r.given 
to  the  arguments  bio  ght  tor  the  truUio.  the  cioctnne  I  /nam- 
tain  ;  and  I  might  further  reaionabiy  dtlne,  that  it  mi^ht  be 
conhc.eied,  whether  it  does  not  become  Uiole,  wh.ae//i^/y 
worthy  ot  the  name  ot  phiio'opheis,  to  tie  ie:fibje,  .h<ii  h»  -e  is 
a  diiieience  betv./een  argu/neitt  aii.l  cofitcmpt  ;  ve«,  ari a  .;  Jit- 
ieitiKc  DC  weeu  the  couienipuoicn.  is «  '  i  -  Vcij<)n  inX  a/gjes, 
iiid  the  incondufiveiieis  ot  the  ^.j^uitiinn  iie  otkis. 


372 


The  conclusion. 


puniflitTjents,  is  not  inconfiftent  with  a  determining 
difpojdl  of  all  events,  of  every  kind,  throui^hout  the 
univerfe,  in  his  Providence  ;  either  by  pofitive  effi- 
ciency, or  permiffion.  Indeed,  fuch  an  univerfal  de- 
ter7ninivg  Providence^  infers  fome  kind  of  necefiTity  of 
all  events,  fuch  a  neceflity  as  implies  an  infallible 
previous  fixednefs  of  the  futurity  of  the  event  :  but 
no  other  neceffity  of  moral  events,  or  volitions  of 
intelligent  agents,  is  needful  in  order  to  this,  than 
moral  necejfity  ;  which  does  as  much  afcertain  the  fu- 
turity of  the  event,  as  any  other  neceflity.  But,  as 
has  been  demonftrated,  fuch  a  necefTity  is  not  at  all 
repugnant  to  moral  agency,  and  a  reafonable  ufe  of 
commands,  calls,  rewards,  punifhments,  &c.  Yea, 
not  only  are  obje6tions  of  this  kind  againft  the  doc- 
trine of  an  univerfal  determining  Providence,  removed 
hy  what  has  been  faid  ;  but  the  truth  of  fuch  a  doc- 
trine is  demonilrated.  As  it  has  been  demonftrated, 
that  the  futurity  of  all  future  events  is  eftablifhed  by 
previous  necellity,  eitl-^r  natural  or  moral  ;  fo  it  is 
manifeft,  that  the  fovereign  Creator  and  Difpofer  of 
the  world  has  ordered  this  neceflity,  by  ordering  his 
own  condud,  either  in  defignedly  aQing,  or  forbear- 
ing to  adl.  For,  as  the  being  of  the  world  is  froru 
God,  fo  the  circumftances  in  which  it  had  its  being 
at  firft,  both  negative  and  pofitive,  mull  be  ordered 
by  him,  in  one  of  thefe  ways  ;  and  ail  the  necefiTary 
confequences  of  thefe  circumftances,  muft  be  ordered 
by  him.  And  God's  a6live  and  pofitive  interpo- 
litions,  after  the  world  was  created,  and  the  confe- 
quences  of  thefe  interpofitions  ;  alfo  every  inftance 
of  his  forbearing  to  interpofe,  and  the  fure  confe- 
quences  of  this  forbearance,  muft  all  be  determined 
according  to  his  plcafure.  And  therefore  every  event, 
which  is  the  confequence  of  any  thing  whatfoever, 
or  that  is  conne6ted  v/ith  any  foregoing  thing  or  cir- 
cumftance,  either  pofitive  prncgative,  as  the  ground 


The  CONCLUSIONT.  375 

or  veafon  of  its  exigence,  mufl  be  ordered  of  G<xl ; 
either  by  a  defigning  efiiciency  and  intcrpofition.  or 
a  deligned  forbearing  to  operate  or  interpofe.  But, 
as  has  been  proved,  all  events  whatfucver  are  neccf- 
farily  connected  with  fomething  foiegoin^r,  cither 
pofitive  orliegative,  which  is  the  ground  of  its  ev- 
idence :  It  follov/s,  therefore,  that  the  whole  fciics 
of  events  is  thus  connected  with  fomething  in  the 
{late  of  things,  either  pofitive  or  negative,  which  i» 
origincd  in  the  feries  ;  i.  e.  fomething  which  is  con- 
ne£led  with  nothing  preceding  that,  but  God'5  own 
irDmediate  condu([:t,  either  his  a6ling  or  foibcaiincr 
to  aft.  From  whence  it  follows,  that  as  God  de- 
fignedly  orders  his  own  conduct,  and  its  conne^ied 
confequcnces,  it  mufl  neceflarily  be,  that  ho  uefign- 
edly  orders  all  things. 

i  he  things,  v^-hich  have  been  faid,  obviate  fomc 
of  the  chief  objedions  of  Arjninians  again  ft  the  Cul- 
vhujlic  do6li  ine  of  the  total  depravity  and  corruption  of 
man's  nature,  whereby  his  heart  is  wholly  under  the 
power  of  fm,  and  he  is  utterly  unabk.  without  the 
interpofition  of  Ibvereign  grace,  favingly  to  love 
God,  believe  in  Chrift,  or  do  any  thing  that  is  truly 
good  and  acceptable  in  God's  fight.  For  the  main 
obje6lion  againil  this  do6trine  is,  that  it  is  inconfift- 
ent  with  the  freedom  of  man's  Will,  confiUing  in 
indifference  and  (elf-determining  power;  becaule  it 
fuppofes  man  to  be  under  a  necefhty  of  finning,  and 
that  God  requires  things  of  him,  in  order  to  his 
avoiding  eternal  damnation,  which  he  is  unable  to 
do  ;  and  that  this  doftrine  is  wholly  inconfiftent 
with  the  finccrity  of  counfels,  invitations,  See.  Now, 
this  do6trine  fuppofes  no  other  neceffiiy  of  finning,  than 
a  moral  necefhty  ;  which,  as  has  been  fhewn,  docs 
not  at  all  excuje  fin  ;  and  fuppofes  no  other  inability  xo 
obey  any  command,  or  perform  any  duty,  even  the 
raoft   fpiritual    and   cxahed,  but  a  moral  inability, 


374  The  CONCLUSIOM. 

which,  as  has  been  proved,  docs  not  excnfe  perrons 
in  the  non  perform  ince  of  any  good  thing,  or  make 
thvOi  not  to  be  the  proper  objetts  ot  commands, 
counfels  and  invitations.  And,  moreover,  it  has 
been  (liewn.  that  there  i^  not,  and  never  can  be,  cith- 
er in  exjftence,  or  fo  much  as  in  idea,  arly  fuch  free- 
dom of  Will,  confift'.ng  m  indifF^rence  and  felf-de- 
tern^ination.  for  the  lake  of  which,  this  d(«61iine  of 
orii'in.il  (in  is  cxH  out  ;  and  that  no  fuch  treedom  is 
necirfTary,  in  order  to  the  nature  of  fm,  and  a  juft 
delcrt   of  puuifiiment. 

Tb(-  things,  which  have  been  obferved,  do  alfo 
take  «;fF  the  main  objo:6lions  of  Arminians  againft  (he 
doclrine  of  tjficacioiis  grace ;  and  at  the  fame  time, 
prove  the  grace  of  God  in  a  linner's  convtrnon  (if 
thtre  be  .^ny  grace  or  divine  influence  in  the  affiir) 
to  be  ejficatioia,  yea.  and  irnjifiiblc  too,  if  by  irrefiil- 
ible  is  meant,  that  which  is  attended  with  a  moral 
necefTiiy,  which  it  is  impolfible  fhould  ever  be  vio- 
lated by  any  rehllance.  The  main  ohjetiion  of  Ar- 
wnian$  againft  the  doCtiine  is,  that  it  is  inconfiRent 
with  ihj'ir  felf-determining  freedom  of  Will  ;  and  that 
it  is  repugnant  to  the  nature  of  virtue,  that  if  fliould 
be  wrought  in  the  heart  by  the  deiermining  efficacy 
and  pov/er  of  another,  inltead  of  its  being  owing  to 
a  feU-nioving  power;  that,  in  that  cfe,  the  good 
which  is  wrought,  would  not  be  cz^r  virtue,  but  rath- 
er God's  virtue  ;  becaufe  it  is  not  the  perfan  in  whom 
it  is  wrought,  that  is  the  determining  author  of  it, 
but  God  that  v/rought  it  in  him.  iiut  the  things, 
which  are  the  foundation  of  ihefc  obje6fions,  have 
been  confidered  ;  and  it  h  iS  been  demonlirafed,  that 
the  hbuny  of  moral  agents  does  not  conhft  in  (elf- 
determining  power  ;  and  tha'.  there  is  no  need  of  any 
fuch  liberty,  in  order  to  the  nature  of  virtue;  nor 
does  it  at  ali  hinder,  but  lliat  the  ita»e  or  afi  of  iht 
Will  may  be  the  virtue  of  the  fubje^l.  though  it  be 


The  CONCLUSIOM.  37^ 

not  from  felf-determinarion,  but  the  determination  of 
an  intrinfic  caufe;  even  fo  as  to  caufe  the  event  lo 
be  morally  neceflary  to  the  iuhjcd  of  i'.  And  a$ 
it  has  been  proved,  that  nothing  in  the  ftate  or  .i6ls 
of  the  Vv^ill  of  man  is  coniiniJcnt;  but  that,  on  the 
contrary,  evciy  event  of  this  kind  is  ncceirjry,  by  a 
tnora!  nccefTity  ;  and  has  alfo  b.cnnow  defnonlint- 
e.d.  that  the  do6irine  of  an  univerfal  determining 
Providence,  follows  from  that  doctrine  of  neceffiry, 
which  was  proved  brfoie  :  and  fo,  thit  Gud  does  dc- 
cihv(^ly.  in  his  P»'ovidenre,  order  all  :he  volitions  oF 
moral  agems.  euher  b\  pofifive  influence  or  perrnif- 
fion  :  and  ir  bein.;  allowed,  on  all  hands,  that  what 
God  does  in  the  aff^n-  of  man's  virtuous  volnions, 
whether  it  br  more  or  lefs,  is  by  fome  pofitive  influ- 
ence, and  not  by  mere  permifiii>n,  as  in  the  affair  of 
a  finfui  volition;  if  u'e  p:.u  thefe  thifi:/s  together,  it 
will  follow,  that  God's  aihtlance  o»  infl^ience,  rnafl 
be  determining  and  dectfive,  or  mud  be  attended 
with  a  moral  necefliU'  of  he  event ;  and  fo,  that  God 
gives  virrue,  holinefs  and  convei  (ion  to  (innvTs,  by  an 
influence  which  determines  the  effect,  in  fuch  a  man- 
ner, that  the  eff^^6l  will  infa'ii'H'  fjllow  by  a  moral 
neceffi  .y ;  which  is  what  Calvmijis  mean  by  elHca- 
cious  and  irreliflible  grace. 

The  thmgs,  which  h  »ve  b^en  faid,  do  likewife  an- 
fwer  the  chief  obi-  chi>ns  again^  the  do^^rine  of  God's 
univerfal  and  abfnlutc  decree,  and  afford  infalnbk  proof 
of  this  do.'l'irie ;  and  of  the  doftr.ne  of  aoflute  tU.r^ 
nal,  perfonal  elecfion  in  v^articuiar.  The  main  objec- 
tions agaii  ft  iliele  dottunex  are,  that  they  infer  a  ne- 
ceffi y  of  the  volitions  of  moral  agents,  and  of  the 
future  moral  ftate  and  act.  ol  men  ;  and  fo  arc  not 
conhftent  with  thofe  eernal  rewards  and  panKh- 
ments,  which  are  connefcted  with  c<^  nverfi  'n  ^nd  im- 
penitence ;  n<'rcan  be  in  )de  to  a;ree  with  the  le.ilon- 
ablenefs  and  finccrity  of  the  precepts,  calls,  couardiJ, 


S76  The  CONCLUSION. 

warnings  and  expoflulations  of  the  word  of  God  ;  or 
with  the  various  methods  and  means  of  grace,  which 
God  ufes  with  linners,  to  bring  them  to  repentance; 
and  the  whole  of  that  moral  government,  which  God 
exercifes  towards  mankind:  and  that  they  infer  an 
inconfiftence  between  the  fecrct  and  revealed  Will  of 
God  ;  and  make  God  the  author  of  fin.  But  all  thefe 
things  have  been  obviated  in  the  preceding  difcourfe. 
And  the  certain  truth  of  thefe  doClrincs,  concerning 
God's  eternal  purpofes,  will  follow  from  what  was 
jull  now  obferved  concerning  God's  univerfal  Prov- 
idence ;  how  it  iiifallibly  follows  from  v/hat  has  been 
proved,  that  God  orders  all  events  ;  and  the  volitions 
of  moral  agents  amongfl  others,  by  fuch  a  decifive 
difpofal,  that  the  events  are  infallibly  conne6ted  with 
his  difpofal.  For  if  God  difpofes  all  events,  fo  that 
the  infallible  exigence  of  the  events  is  decided  by  his 
Providence,  then  he,  doubtlefs,  thus  orders  and  de- 
cides things  knowingly,  and  on  defign,  God  does  not 
do  what  he  does,  nor  order  what  he  orders,  accident- 
ally or  unawares  ;  either  without,  or  befide  his  inten- 
tion. And  if  there  be  ^i  foregoing  defign  of  doing 
and  ordering  as  be  does,  this  is  the  fame  with  a  pur^ 
fofe  or  decree.  And  as  it  has  been  fiiewn,  that  noth- 
ing is  new  to  God,  in  any  refpe6t,  but  all  things  are 
perfectly  and  equally  in  his  view  from  eternity  ; 
hence  it  will  follow,  that  his  defigns  or  purpofes  are 
not  things  formed  anew,  founded  on  any  new  views 
or  appearances,  but  are  all  eternal  purpofes.  And 
as  it  has  been  now  ihewn,  how  the  do6lrine  of  de- 
termining efficacious  grace  certainly  follows  from 
things  proved  in  the  foregoing  difcourfe  ;  hence  will 
necelfarily  follow  the  dodrine  of  pariicidar,  eternal 
ahfohite  election.  For  if  men  are  made  true  faints,  no 
j  othcrwife  than  as  God  makes  them  fo,  and  diflin- 
!  guifhes  (hem  from  others,  by  an  cfFicacious  power 
and  influence  of  his,  that  decides  and  fixes  the  event ; 


The  conclusion.  377 

and  God  thus  makes  fome  faints,  and  not  others,  on  • 
defign  or  purpofe,  and  (as  has  been  now  obfcrved) 
no  defigns  of  God  are  new  ;  it  follows,  that  God  thus/| 
dillinguifhed  from  others,  all  that  ever  become  true; 
faints,  by  his  eternal  defign  or  decree.  I  might  alio 
fhew,  how  God's  certain  foreknowledge  muH:  fuppofo 
an  abfolute  decree,  and  how  fuch  a  decree  can  be 
proved  to  a  demonflration  from  it  :  but  that  this 
difcourfe  may  not  be  lengthened  out  too  much,  that 
mufl  be  omitted  for  the  prefent. 

From  thefe  things  it  will  inevitably  follow,  that 
however  Chrifl;  in  fome  fenfe  may  be  faid  to  die  for 
all,  and  to  redeem  all  vifible  chriflians,  yea,  the 
whole  world  by  his  death  ;  yet  there  mufl:  be  fome- 
thin g  far ticuia?'  in  the  dcfign  of  his  death,  with  re- 
fpe^  to  fuch  as  he  intended  fliould  adually  be  faved 
thereby.  As  appears  by  what  has  been  now  iliewn, 
God  has  the  a6lual  falvation  or  redemp'ion  of  a  cer- 
tain number  in  his  proper  abfolute  defign,  and  of  a 
certain  number  only  ;  and  therefore  fuch  a  defign 
only  can  be  profecuted  in  any  thing  God  does,  in 
order  to  the  falvation  of  men.  God  purfues  a  prop- 
er defign  of  the  falvation  of  the  elect  in  giving  Chrifl: 
to  die,  and  profecutes  fuch  a  defign  with  refpeft  to 
no  other,  mofl:  ftridly  fpeaking  ;  for  it  is  impofllblc 
that  God  fhould  profecute  any  other  defign  than 
only  fuch  as  he  has  :  he  certainly  does  not,  in  the 
higiicll  propriety  and  fl:ridnefs  of  fpeech,  purfue  a 
defign  that  he  has  not.  And,  indeed, ^fuch  a  partic- 
ularity and  limitation  of  redemption  will  as  infalli- 
bly follow,  from  the  do6lrine  of  God's  foreknowledge, 
as  from  that  of  the  decree.  For  it  is  as  impoffible, 
in  flri^lnefs  of  fpeech,  that  God  fliould  profecute  a 
defign,  or  aim  at  a  thing,  which  He  at  the  fame  time 
moft  perfe6lly  knows  will  not  be  accomplifhed,  as 
that  he  fliould  ufe  endeavours  for  that  which  is  be- 
fide  his  decree. 

B3 


378  The  CONCLUSION. 

Bv  the  things  which  have  been  proved,   are  obvi- 
ated fome  of  the  main  objections  againft  the  dothine 
of  the  infallible  and  necelFary  perftverar.ee  of  faints, 
and  Ibmc  of  the  main  fovmdalions  of  this   do61rine 
r.re  cflabli filed.     The  main  prejudices  of  Arminians 
againft  this  uo61rine  feem  to  be  thefe  ;   they  fuppofe 
fach  a  ntcedary,  infallible  perfeverance  to  be  repug- 
nant to  the  freedom  of  the    Will  ;  that  it  mud  be 
ou'ing  to  man's  own  felf-determining  power,  that  he 
fvjt  becomes  virtuous  and  holy  ;   and  fo,  in  like  man- 
ner, it  mull  be  left  a  thing  connngent,  to  be  deter- 
mined by  the  fame  freedom  of  Will,  whether  he  will 
ferfevere  in  virtue  and  holinefs;   and   that  otherwife 
hi'  continuing  fledfafi;  in  faith  and  obedience  would 
not  be  his  virtue,  or  at  all  praife-worthy  and  reward- 
able  ;   nor  could   his  perfeverance  be  properly   the 
matter  of  divine  commands,  counfels  and  promifes, 
nor  his  apoftacy  be  properly   threatened,    and    men 
warned  againft  it.     Whereas,  we  find  all  thefe  things 
in  Scripture  :   there  we  find  ftedfallnefs    and  perle- 
verance  in  true  chriftianity,  reprefented  as  the  virtue 
of  the  faints,   fpoken  of   as  praife-worthy  in  them, 
and  glorious  rewards  promifed  to  it  ;   and  alio  find, 
that   God   makes  it  the  fubjeO;   of   his   commands, 
counfels  and  promifes  ;  and  the  contrary,  of  threat- 
enings  and  warnings.      But  the  foundation  of  thele 
objetiions  has  been  removed,  in  its  being  fhewn  that: 
moral  neceflity  and  infallible  certainty  ot  events  is 
not   inconfillent  with  thefe  things  ;   and  that,   ar,  to 
freedom  of  W^ill  lying  in  the  power  of  the  Will  to 
determine  itfelf,  there  neither  is  any  fuch  thing,  nor 
i  need  of  any  of  it,  in  order  to  virtue,  reward,  com- 
mands, counfels,  Sec. 

And  as  the  doQrines  of  efficacious  grace  and  ab- 
folute  eledion  do  certainly  follow  from  things,  which 
have  been  proved  in  the  preceding  difcourfe;  lo  (ome 
of  the  main  foundations  of  the  dctlrine  of  perievcr- 


The  COxNfCLUSION.  379 

ance,  are  thereby  eftabliflied.  If  tlie  beginniiT^  of 
true  faiih  and  ho!ine{s,and  a  man's  becoming  a  true 
lainc  at  fn  ft,  does  not  dt'pend  on  the  rt:U-dcterminin»r 
power  ol  the  Will,  bat  on  the  determining  eliicacious 
gr  re  of  God;  it  nny  well  be  argued,  that  it  is  alfo 
wi.h  refpefl  to  men's  being  continued  taints,  or  per- 
fevering  in  faith  and  holiners.  Tlic  converfion  of  a 
linner  being  not  owing  to  a  man's  fe!f-determination, 
but  to  Cod's  determination,  and  eternal  eleQion, 
which  is  abfolute,  and  depending  on  the  fovereign 
Wiil  of  God  ;  and  not  on  the  free  Will  of  man  ;  as  is 
evident  from  what  has  been  faid  ;  and  it  being  very- 
evident  from  the  Scriptures,  that  the  eternal  eleclion 
which  there  is  of  faints  to  faith  and  holinefs,  is  a!(o  an 
eletlion  of  them  to  eternal  ialvation  :  hence  their  ap- 
pointment to  falvation  mult  alfo  be  abfolute,  and 
not  depending  on  their  contingent,  felf-determining 
will.  P'lom  all  which  it  follows,  that  it  is  abfoiutely 
fixed  in  God's  decree,  that  all  true  faints  fliall  perfe- 
vere  to  a6lual  eternal  falvation. 

But  I  muft  leave  ail  thefe  things  to  the  confider- 
ation  of  the  fair  and  impartial  reader  ;  and  when  he 
has  maturely  weighed  them,  I  would  propofe  it  to 
his  confi deration,  whether  many  of  the  fiill  reform- 
ers, and  others  that  fucceeded  tiiem,  whom  God  in 
their  day  made  the  chief  pillars  of  his  church,  and 
greateft  inftruments  of  their  deliverance  from  error 
and  darknefs,  and  of  the  fapport  of  the  caufe  of  pie- 
ty among  them,  have  not  been  injured,  in  the  con- 
tempt with  which  they  have  been  treated  by  many 
late  writers,  for  their  teaching  and  maintaining  fuch 
do6lrines  as  are  commonly  called  Calvinifiic.  In- 
deed, fome  of  thefe  new  writers,  at  the  lame  time 
that  they  have  reprelented  the  doctrines  of  thefe  an- 
cient and  eminent  divmes,  as  in  the  highcft;  degree 
ridiculous,  and  contrary  to  common  fenfe,  in  an  oi- 
tentation  of  a  very  generous   charity,   have    allowed 


38o  The  CONCLUSION. 

that  they  were  honeft  well-meaning  men  :  yea  it 
may  be  fome  of  them,  as  though  it  were  in  great  con- 
delcenfion  and  compaffion  to  them,  have  allowed, 
that  they  did  pretty  weil  for  the  day  which  they  liv- 
ed in,  and  confidering  the  great  difadvantages  they 
labored  under  :  when,  at  the  fame  time,  their  man- 
ner of  fpeaking  has  naturally  and  plainly  fuggefled 
to  the  minds  of  their  readers,  that  they  were  perfons, 
who  through  the  iownefs  of  their  genius,  and  great- 
nefs  of  the  bigotry,  with  which  their  minds  were 
fhackled,.  and  thouj^hts  confined,  living  in  the  gloo- 
my caves  of  fuperftition,  fondly  embraced,  and  de- 
murely and  zealouHy  taught  the  moft  abfard,  filly 
and  monflrous  opinions,  worthy  of  the  greatefh  con- 
tempt of  gentlemen  poffeffed  of  that  noble  and  gen- 
erous freedom  of  thought,  which  happily  prevails  in 
this  age  of  light  and  enquiry.  When,  indeed,  fuch 
is  the  cafe,  that  we  might,  if  fo  difpofed,  fpeak  as  big 
words  as  they,  and  on  far  better  grounds.  And  real- 
ly all  the  Arminians  on  earth  might  be  challenged 
without  arrogance  or  vanity,  to  make  theie  principles 
of  theirs,  wherein  they  mainly  differ  from  their  fath- 
ers, whom  they  fo  much  defpife,  confident  with  com- 
mon fenfe;  yea,  and  perhaps  to  produce  any  doc- 
trine ever  embraced  by  the  blindeft  bigot  of  the 
Church  of  Rome,  or  the  moft  ignorant  Muffulman, 
or  extravagant  enthufiaft,  that  might  be  reduced  to 
more  demonftrable  inconfiftencies,  and  repugnancies 
to  common  fenfe,  and  to  thcmfelves ;  though  their 
inconfiftencies  indeed  may  not  lie  fo  deep,  or  be  fo 
artfully  veiled  by  a  deceitful  ambiguity  of  words, 
and  an  indeterminate  fignificaiion  of  phrafes. — -I 
will  not  deny,  that  thefe  gentlemen,  many  of  them, 
are  men  of  great  abilities,  and  have  been  helped  to 
higher  attainments  in  philofophy,  than  thofe  ancient 
divines,  and  have  done  great  fervice  to  the  Church 
of  God  in  fome  refpe6ts :  but  I  humbly  conceive, 


The  COaXLUSION.  381 

that  their  differing  from  their  fathers,  with  fach  mag- 
"ifterial  aflurance,  in  theie  points  in  divinity,  mud  be 
owing  to  fome  other  caufe  than  fupeiior  wildom. 

It  may  alCo  be  worthy  of  confideration,  whether 
the  great  aheration,  which  has  been  made  in  the 
flate  of  things  in  our  nation,  and  fome  other  parts  of 
the  Proteftant  world,  in  ihiy  and  the  pad  age,  by  the 
exploding  fo  generally  Calvinijlic  dodrincs,  that  is 
fo  often  Ipoken  of  as  worthy  to  be  greatly  rejoiced 
in  by  the  friends  of  truth,  learning  and  virtue,  as  an 
inftance  of  the  great  increafe  of  li^ht  m  the  Chriflian 
Church  ;  I  fay,  it  may  be  worthy  to  be  coniidered, 
whether  this  be  indeed  a  happy  change,  owing  to  any 
fuch  caufe  as  an  increafe  of  true  knowledge  and  un- 
derftanding  in  things  of  religion;  or  whether  there 
is  not  reafon  to  fear,  that  it  may  be  owing  to  fome 
worfe  caufe. 

And  I  dtiire  it  may  be  confidered,  whether  the 
boldnefs  of  lome  writers  may  not  be  Vi^orthy  to  be  re- 
fledled  on,  who  have  not  fcrupled  to  fay,  that  if  thefe 
and  thofe  things  are  true  (which  yet  appear  to  be 
the  demonftrable  di6tates  of  reafon,  as  well  as  the 
certain  didates  of  the  mouth  of  the  Mofl  High)  then 
God  is  unjufl  and  cruel,  and  g^iihy  of  manifeft  de- 
ceit and  double  dealing,  and  the  like.  Yea,  fome 
have  gone  fo  far,  as  confidently  to  aflert,  that  if  any 
book  which  pretends  to  be  Scripture,  teaches  fuch 
do6lrines,  that  alone  is  fufficient  warrant  for  mankind 
to  rejedl  it,  as  what  cannot  be  the  Word  of  God. — 
Some,  who  have  not  gone  fo  far,  have  faid,  that  if 
the  Scripture  feems  to  teach  any  fuch  dodrines,  fo 
contrary  to  reafon,  we  are  obliged  to  find  out  fome 
other  interpretation  of  thofe  texts,  where  I'uch  doc- 
trines feem  to  be  exhibited.  Others  exprefs  them- 
felves  yet  more  modeflly  :  they  exprefs  a  tendernefs 
and  religious  fear,  left  they  Ciould  receive  and  teach 
any  thing  that  (hould  feem  to  refled  on  God's  mor- 


382  The  conclusion. 

al  chara6ler,  or  be  a  difparagement  to  his  methods 
of  adminiftration,  in  his  moral  government;  and 
therefore  exprefs  themfelves  as  not  daring  toembrace 
fome  do6lrines,  though  they  feem  to  be  delivered  in 
Scripture,  according  to  the  more  obvious  and  natural 
conilru6lion  of  the  Vv^ords.  But  indeed  it  would 
fbew  a  truer  modefty  and  humility,  if  they  would 
more  entirely  rely  on  God's  wifdom  and  difcerning, 
who  knows  mfinitely  better  than  we,  what  is  agreea- 
ble to  his  own  perfe6lions,  and  never  intended  to 
leave  thcfe  matters  to  the  decifion  of  the  wifdom  and 
difcerning  of  men  ;  but  by  his  own  unerring  inftruc- 
tion,  to  determine  for  us  what  the  truth  is  ;  knowing 
h'jw  little  our  judgment  is  to  be  depended  on,  and 
how  extremely  prone,  vain  and  blind  men  are,  to  err 
in  Inch  matters. 

The  truth  of  the  cafe  is,  that  if  the  Scripture  plain- 
ly taught  the  oppofite  doctrines,  to  thofe  that  are  fo 
much  itumbled  at,  viz.  the  ^rmzni<^w  dodrine  of  free 
Will,  and  others  depending  thereon,  it  would  be  the 
greateft  of  all  difficulties  that  attend  the  Scriptures, 
incomparably  greater  than  its  containing  any,  even 
the  mod  myflerious  of  thofe  do6lrines  of  the  firll 
reformers,  which  our  late  free  thinkers  have  fo  fuper- 
cilioufly  exploded. — Indeed,  it  is  a  glorious  argu- 
ment of  the  divinity  of  the  holy  Scriptures,  that  they 
leach  Inch  doQnnes,  which  in  one  age  and  another, 
through  the  blindnefs  of  men's  minds,  and  ftrong 
prejudices  of  their  hearts,  are  reje6led,  as  mofl  ab- 
lurd  and  unreafonable,  by  the  wife  and  great  men  of 
the  world  ;  which  yet,  when  they  are  mofl  carefully 
and  ftri6tly  examined,  appear  to  be  exadly  agreea- 
ble to  the  mofl  demonflrable,  certain,  and  natural 
dictates  of  reafon.  ^y  fuch  things  it  appears,  that 
ihcfoolijh'efs  of  God  is  wijer  than  men,  and  God  does 
as  is  faid  in  1  Cor.  i.  19,  20.  For  it  is  written,  I  will 
itfiroy  the  wifdom  oj  the  wife  ;  I  zvill  bring  to  nothing 


Tii£  CONCLUSION.  383 

the  iim-ejjiandwg  of  the  prudent.  Where  is  the  wife  ! 
Where  is  the  [crib e  I  Where  is  the  difputer  of  this  zuorld  f 
Hath  not  God  made  fooliJJi  the  wifdom  of  this  zuorld  ? 
And  as  it  ufed  lo  be  in  time  pad.  fo  it  is  probable  it 
will  be  ill  time  to  come,  as  it  is  there  written,  in  ver. 
27,  28,  29.  But  God  hath  chofen  the  foohfh  things  of 
the  world,  to  confound  the  wife  :  and  God  hath  chofen  the 
weak  things  of  the  zuorld,  to  confound  the  things  that  are 
mighty;  and  bafe  thuigs  of  the  world,  and  things  which 
are  defpiftd,  hath  God  chofen  :  yea,  and  things  zokich  are 
not,  to  bring  to  nought  things  that  are ;  that  no  Jltfh 
fhould  glory  in  his  prefence.     Amen. 


^I       N 


THE 

D        E 


X. 


[N.  B.  The  capital  P.  fignifics  the  Part  ;  Sea.  the  S^xlion  > 
Concl.  the  CondufLon  /and  the  fniali  p.  the  Page  ;  vvheifi 
the  things  here  fpe'cified  are  to  be  iouiid.] 


X'JLBSTRACTED  OF  nhftrufc 
Reafoning,  whether  ju (11  v  ob- 
jefted  again  ft  Calvinijis,  P.  4. 
6^61.  13.  p.  360. 

Atlion,  inconliftence  of  the 
Arminian  notion  of  it,  P.  4. 
Se6t.  2.  p.  257,  and  whence 
this  arofe,  ibid",  p.  264,  what 
it  is  in  the  common  notion  o\ 
it,  ibid.  p.  261,  and  how  dif- 
tinguiihed  frorh  Pcjlon,  ibid. 
p.  263. 

Adivity  oftJu  Nature  0/  the 
Souly  whether  through  this, 
volition  can  arile  without  a 
caule,  P.  2.  Set>.  4.  p.  62. 

Apparent  Good,  the  great- 
eft,  in  whit  (en^c  it  deter- 
rnines  the  Will,  P.  i,  Scti.  2. 
p.  9. 

Arminians,  obliged  to  talk 
inconfiftently,  P.  2.  Sett.  5. 
p.  69.  Ibid.  SeB:.  7.  p.  92. 
Sett.  9.  p.  101,  where  the 
inain  Ilrengthot  their  pretend- 
ed demon itration  lies,  P.  4. 
Sect.  4.  p.  284.  Their  ob- 
jefction  from  God's  moral 
charatier,  conftdered  and  re- 
torted, ibid  Sctl.  1 1.  p.  3,33,4. 

Arminian  Dodrin^,,  its  ten- 
dency 10  fupcrcede  all  ufe  of 

'        c 


means,  and  make  endeavours 
vain,  P.  4.  Seft.  ,5.  p.  p88, 
and,  in  elfetl,  to  exclude  all 
virtue  and  vice  out  of  the 
world,  P.  3.  Seel.  4.  p.  209, 
217.  Ibid.  Sect.  6  p.  237,  b, 
and  Se6L  7.  p.  246.  P.  4.  Seel. 
1.  p.  £53.     ibid  Se61.  12.  p. 

Aiheifm,  the  fuppofed  ten- 
dency of  Calvmifcic  principles 
to  it,  P.  4.  Setl.  12.  p.  356* 
How  Arminian  principles 
tend  to  it,  ibid.  p.  3,57. 

Attending  to  Motives,  of  lib* 
erty's  being  fuppofed  to  con- 
fifl  in  an  ability  for  it,  P.  2; 
Se6t.  9.  p.  103. 

Atonement.     See  Chrifl. 

Author  of  Sin,  whether  it 
would  iollow  from  the  doc- 
trine here  maintained,  that 
God  is  lo,  P.  4.  Seel.  9.  p. 

'"'■        .       B.. 

Biame-ziwrthmcfs,  wherein 
it  confifts,  according  to  com- 
mon Icnle,   P.  4.  Sctf.  4.  p. 

'''•  c. 

Caiinnifm  confillent  with 
common  icafe,  P.  4.  ^-  t  ^. 
p.  266, 

3 


3S6 


INDEX. 


Caufe,  how  the  word  is  ufcd 
in  this  difcourfe,  P.  2.  Sed. 

3.  p.  .54,^5.  No  event  without 
one,  P.  2.  Sea.  3.  p.  55— 
and  ejetl,  a  ncceflaiy  connex- 
ion between  tlicm,  P.  2.  Se6l. 
b*.  p.  96.  This  reTpefcU  mor- 
aly  as  well  as  natural  caufes, 
P.  2.  Sea.  3.  p.  55. 

Ckriji,  his  obedience  necef- 
farv,  yet  virtuous  and  praife- 
woVthy,  P.  3.  Sea.  2.  p.  180. 
Kis  atonement  excluded  in 
confequence  of  Ar?7iinian 
principles,  P.  3.  Se6t.  3.  p. 
204. 

C/iubc^  (Mr.)  the  inconfiR- 
ence  of  his  fcheme  ol  liberty^ 
Sec.  P.  2.  Sea.   10.  p.  1 11  — 

128. 

Commands,  confiftent  with 
moral  neceility  and  inability, 
P.  3.  Sea.  4.  p.  206.  P.  4. 
Sea.  11.  p.  351.  Inconfiit- 
ent  with  Ar??nniun  principles, 
P.  3.  Se6l.  4.  p    209. 

Co7nmon  Sunjc,  why  the 
principles  main:aincd  in  this 
difcourfe,  appear  to  fome  con- 
trary to  it,  P.  4.  Se6l.  3.  p. 
266.  NecelTary  virtue  and 
vice  agreeable  to  it,  P.  4.  Sea. 

4.  p.  275. — Armtman  tenets 
oppofite  to  it,  P.  3.  '^tB..  6. 
p.  230.    Ibid   Sea.  7.  p.  243. 

Ccntingcnce,  P.  1.  Sea.  3. 
p.  26,  the  Inconfi  flence  of  the 
Notion,  P.  2.  Sea.  3.  p.  59. 
Whether  neceflary  in  order 
to  Liberty,  P.  2.  Se6l.  8.  p.  9^5 
—implied  in  Armtnian  Lib- 
erty, and  yet  inconliflent  with 
it,  P.  2.  Sed.  13.  p.  172.  Ep- 
icurus  the  ^reatcil  maintaincr 


of  itj  P.  4.  Sea.  6.   p.  296. 
Ibid  Sea.  12.  p.  357. 

Corruption  of  Maris  iV^- 
ture^  CoNCL.  p.  373. 

Creation  of  the  world,  atfuch 
a  particular  Time  and  Place^ 
P.  4.  Sea.  8.  p.  312. 
D. 

Decree  ahfolute,  not  infer- 
ring Neceflity,  any  more  than 
certain  Fore-knowledge  does, 
P.  2.  Sea.  12.  p.  159.  How 
it  follows  from  things  proved 
in    this    difcourfe,   Concl. 

P-  37<5- 

Determination,     See  WilL 
Ditiates.    See  Underjiand- 


ing. 


E. 


Efea.     SeeCaufe. 
Efficacious  6 race,  CONCL, 

P-  874-. 

Eledion  perfonaL  Set  De» 
crce. 

Endeavours,  what  it  is  for 
ihem  to  be  in  vain,  P.  4.  Se6t. 
5.  p.  285.  Rendered  vain  by 
Armiman  Principles,  Ibid 
p.  289.  But  not  fo  by  Cal- 
vimjni.  Ibid  p.  291,2.  See 
Sincerity. 

Entrance  oj  Sin  into  the 
world,  P.  4.  Sea.  10.  p.  348. 

Equilibrium,  See  Indijfer" 
tnce. 

Exhortation.  See  Invita* 
iion.  f. 

Fallen  Man.    See  Inability, 

Fate  Jloical,  P.  4.  Sea. -6. 
p.  296. 

Fatality,  the  Principles  of 
Arminians  inferring  tliat  which 
is  mofl  fhocking,  P.  4.  Seft, 
8.  p.  32J. 


INDEX 


387 


Fore-knowledge  of  God,  of 
Volitions  of  moral  Agents, 
proved,  P.  2.  Se6h  ii.  p. 
128. — Inconfiflcnt  with  Con- 
tingency P.  2.  Se6l.  12.  p. 
153.  Proves  NecefTity,  as 
much  as  a  decree.  Ibid  p  139. 
The  Teeming  difficulty  of  re- 
conciling it  with  the  fincerity  i 
of  his  precepts,  counfeis,  &c. 
not  peculiar  to  the  Calvimjlic 
fcheme,  P.   4,    Se6l.    n.   p. 

G. 

Gody  His  Being  how  known, 
P,  a.  Sea.  3.  p.  57.  Part  4. 
Seft.  12.  p.  357.  His  moral 
Excellencies  necelTary,  yet 
virtuous  and  praife- worthy, 
P.  3.  Seft.  1.  p.  175.  Part  4. 
Sea.  4.  p.  28.5.  TheNecef- 
fity  of  his  Volitions,  P.  4. 
Seft.  7.  p.  aSg.  Whether 
the  principles  maintained  in 
this  difcourfe  are  inconfillent 
,  with  his  moral  charafter,  P. 
4.  Seft.  II.  p.  350.  How 
Arminianifm  dcftroys  the  evi- 
dence of  his  moral  perfec- 
tions, Ibid  p.  354. 

Grace  of  the  Spirit,  exclud- 
ed by  Armiman  principles, 
p.  3.  Sea.  3.  p.  206. 

Grace^  its  Freenefs  confifl- 
cnt  with  the  moral  NecefTity 
of  God's  Will,  P.  4.  Sea.  8. 

P'323- 

H. 

Habits,  virtuous  and  vi- 
cious, inconfiftent  with  Ar- 
minian  principles,  P.  3.  Se6l. 
6.  p. 234. 

Heathen,  of  their  Salvation, 
P,  3.  Sea.  ^.  p.  230. 


DoBrinc 
4.  Sea.   6. 


Hohhrs,    his 
Neceffiiy,  P 

297.  1. 

ImpoJfibdUy,    the    f.nne   as 
negative  NcceUity,  P.  i.  Sea. 

3-  P-  25-. 

Inability,  how  the  word  is 
ufed  in  common  fpeech,  and 
how  by  Mdaphylraans  and 
Arminians,  P.  i.  Sea,  3.  ig, 
26.  P.  4.  Sea.  3.  p.  269.  Na. 
tural  and  moral,  P.  i .  Se6h 
4.  p.  27.  Moral,  the  feveral 
kinds  of  it,  P.  1.  Sea.  4.  p. 
33.  P.  3.  Sea.  4.  p.  213,14. 
— of  fallen  man  to  perform 
perfea  obedience,  P.  3.  Sea. 
3.  p.  203.  What  does,  and 
what  does  not  excule  men, 
P.  3,  Se6l.  3.  p.  200.  Ibid 
Sea.  4.  p.  217.  P.  4.  Sea.  3. 
p.  267,  8. 

Inclinations.    See  Habits, 

Indifference,  whether  liber- 
ty conliHs  in  it,  P.  2  Sea.  7. 
p.  82. — Not  necefTp.ry  to  vir- 
tue, but  inconfiflcnt  with  it, 
P.  3.  Sea.  6.  p   233. 

Indifferent  things,  thofe 
which  appear  fo,  never  the 
objeas  of  volition,  P.  i.  Sea. 
2.  p.  8,  9.  P.  2.  Sea.  6.  p.  74. 
Whether  the  Will  can  deter- 
mine itfelf  in  choofing  among 
fuch  things,  P.  2.  SeCh  6.  p. 

74»  5', 

Invitations,  confiftent  with 

moral  NecefTity  and  Inability, 
P.  3.  Sea.  4.  p.  219.  P.  4. 
Se6t.  II.  p.  351.  But  not 
confiftent  with  Ar?jiinian  prin- 
ciples, P.  2.  Se6L9  p.  106. 
P.  3.  Sea.  7.  p.  244.  P.  4. 
Sea.  II.  p.  353- 


INDEX. 


LawSy  the  end  whereof  is  to 
bind  to  one  fide,  rendered 
iifelefs  by  Arjninian  princi- 
ples, P.  3.  Se6L  4.  p.  209,10. 

Liberty^  the  nature  o\  it,  P. 

1.  Setl.  "ly.  p.  36.  The  Ar- 
7mnian  Notion  of  it,  ibid  p. 
38.  This  inconlillent  with 
other   Ar?ininan   Notions,   P. 

2.  Se61.  9.  p.  100,  &c. 
Licentioufnff],  whether  the 

Calvimjlic  (iofctrine  ttnds  to  it, 
P.  4.  Seft.  12.  p.  357-— See 
Endeavours. 

M, 

Machines,  whether  Calvin- 
i/fn  makes  men  fuch,  P.  4. 
Sea.  5.  p.  293. 

Means.     See  Endfavours. 

Metaphyjical  Rcafo n i  }/g . — 
See  Abjlratlcd.— To  be  juiUv 
objeftcd  again  ft  the  Armini- 
an   fcheme,  P.  4.  Sedt.  13,  p. 

367- 

Moral  Agency,  its  Nature, 

P.  I.  Se6h5.  p.  3g. 

Motives,  what  they  are,  P. 
J.  Seth  2.  p.  7.  The  ;hon^- 
rft  determining  the  Will,  ib. 
p.  ?).  P.  2.  Se6l.  lo,  p.  1 16,17. 
Arminian  principles  inconfilK 
cnt  with  their  influence  and 
life  in  moral  attions,  P.  3. 
Se6l.  7.  p.  240.  P.  4.  Se6h  1 1 , 

p-  356.      ^^ 

NAturnl  Notions.  See  T^w- 

Necejjity,  how  tlie  term  is 
ufcd  in  common  fpeerli,  and 
how  by  philofophcrs,  P.  1. 
Sc6t.  3.  p.  17.  P.  4.  Se6}.  3. 
p.  267.     Philolophical  of' va- 


rious kinds.  Ibid  p.  271,  2, 
natural  and  moral,  P.  1.  Sec>. 
4.  p.  27.  P.  4.  Seft.  4.  p.  282. 
No  Liberty  without  moral  Ne- 
ceflity,  P.  2.  SetK  ^.  p.  9,5. 
Necefhty  and  Contingence, 
both  inconliilent  with  Armin^ 
mn  Liberty,  P.  2.  Seft.  13. 
p.  170.  Necefhty  of  God's 
Volition,  P.  3.  Se^7.  i.p.  175. 
P.  4.  Sea.  7.  p".  29B.  This 
coniiffcnt  with  the  treencfs  of 
his  grace,  ibid  Sei:}.  8.  p. 
323. — Necefhty  of  Cbrill's 
Obedience,  &c.  P.  3.  Sefl-^ 
2.  p.  1 80.— ^Of  the  fin  ol  fuch 
as  are  given  up  to  hn,  P.  3. 
Se6L  3. p.  198. --01  fallen  man 
in  general,  P.  3.  Seel.  3.  p. 
203.  What  Neccfiity  wholly 
excufes  men,  P.  3.  Setf.  4.  p. 
217,28.  P.  4.  Sett.  3.  p.  267* 
and  Se6t.  4.  p.  278. 

Obedience.  See  Chiift,  Com- 
mands,  Necefjih.  % 

Particles  perjeclly  alike,  of 
the  Creator's  pldcing  fuch  dif- 
ferently, P.  4.  Be'ti:.  8,  p.3M- 
Perfeverance     cf    Saints^ 

CONCL.  p.  378. 

Promijes,  whether  any  are 
made  to  the  endeavours  of  un- 
rcgenerate  finncrs,  P.  3.  Sef>,' 
5- P-  228,-9.     '      . 

P/'ovidtnce,  univerfal  and 
dpciJlvc,  Co.NjCL.  p.  372. 

R. 
Redempticn particular,  Co ^'- 
(  i..  p.  377. 

Rejormrrs  the  firjl,  how 
treated  by  many  ate  writer? 
CoNCL.  p.  379. 


I    N    D    p:    X. 


389 


Saints  in  Heaven,  tbt-ir  Llb- 
cny,  P.  4.  Sed.  4.  p.  io5. 

Scripture,  of  the  Arminians 
ariTuments  irom  thence,  P.  4. 

:sca.  ij.  p.  355. 

Self- deter m i n 1 11  g  Pc xce r  of 
the  iVill,  its  i n con fi Hence.  P. 
2.  StCi.  1.  p.  42.  Evafions 
ot  the  arguments  againlt  it 
confidered,  P.  2.  Seti.  2.  p. 
47,  ftiewn  to  be  impertinent, 
ibid  Se6}.  5.  p.  67. 

iS/;?.  See  Author,  Entrance. 

Sincerity  of  Dcjires  and  En- 
deavor s,\v\\dii  is  no  juft  excule, 
P.  3.  Set).  5.  p.  220.  The 
different  forts  ot  Jincerit)\  ibid 
p.  226. 

Sloth,  not  encouraged  by 
Calvinijin,   P.  4.  Se6(.  ^.  p. 

Stoic  Phi!o/ophers,gr€u\  The- 
ills,  P.  4.  Sect.  12.  p.  357. 
See  Ea^e. 

Suspending  Volition,  o\  the 
the  liberty  ot  the  Will  fuppof". 
ed  to  confiil  in  an  ability  ior 
it,  P.  2.  Seft.  7.  p.  92.  P.  3. 
Sefl.4.  p.  212,  13.  lb.  Sett. 
y.  p.  261. 

T. 
Tendency  ot  the  Principles 
here  maintained,  to  Atheifm 
and  licentioufnefs,  the  objec- 
tion confidered  and  retoitcd, 
F.  4.  Seel.  12.  p.  240,  I, 


V. 

Virtue  and  Vice,  the  Belnfr 
of  neithei  of  them  confiflent 
with    Ar?nin:an    principles  : 

I  Sec  ArmmianDodrine.  Their 
Ellence    net    lyini;    in  their 

I  Caufe,  but  their  Nature,  P.  4. 

I  Sett.  1.  p.  2^9. 

Undcrjianduig,  how  it  de- 
termines the  Will,  P.  I.  Secf. 
2.  p.  16.  P.  2.  ^ett.  9.  p.  100. 
Di6hites  of  the  Underftanding 
and  Will, as  fiippofed  by  fome, 
the  fame,  P.  2.  Set).  9.  p.  106. 
Uneafinefs,  as  fuppof  ed  to 
deteimine  the  Will,  P.  i.Se6t. 

2.F-9- 

Vchtion,    not    witnout    a 

caufe,  P.  2.  ScO.  3.  p.  61.  P. 

2.  Sect.  4.  p.  66. 

W. 

rr;7/ its  Nature,  P.  i.Sea. 
I.  p.  i,&c.  Its  determination, 
p.  1.  Sect.  2.  p.  6,  &c.  'ihe 
veiy  bein^  o\  fuch  a  faculty 
inconfiftent  with  Anniman 
Principles,  P.  3.  Sett.  7.  p, 
2^7.— Or  Ood,  Jecret  and  re- 
vcakd,  P.  4.  Sea.  9.  p.  340, 
Arminians  ihemfelves  obliged 
to  allow  fuch  a  dillintiion, 
ibid,  p.  343. 

WiUingncfs  to  Duty,  what 
is  no  excufe  tor  the  negle£'^ 
ot  it.     See  Siucaity, 


REMARKS 

ON  THE 

ESSAYS  on  the  Principles  of  Morality 
and  Natural  Religion, 

In  a  LETTER  to  a    Minifter  of  the  Church  ot 
Scotland  : 

By  the  Rev.  Mr.  JONATHAN  EDWARDS,  Pref- 
ident  of  the  College  of  New-Jersey,  and  Author 
of  the  late  Inquiry  into  the  Modern  Notions 
of  the  Freedom  of  Will. 

REV.  SIR, 

1  he  intimations  you  have  given  me  of  theufe  which 
has,  by  fome,  been  made  of  what  I  have  written  on 
the  Freedom  of  the  Will,  &c.  to  vindicate  what  is  faid 
on  the  fubjedt  of  liberty  and  neceflity,  by  the  Author 
of  the  i'Jfuys  on  the  Principles  of  Morality  end  Natur- 
al Religion,  has  occafioned  my  reading  this  Author's 
Effay  on  that  fubjecl,  with  particular  care  and  atten- 
tion. And  I  think  it  muft  be  evident  to  every  one, 
that  has  read  both  his  Kfjay  and  my  Inquiry,  that 
our  fchemes  are  exceeding  reverfe  from  each  other. 
The  wide  difference  appears  particularly  in  the  fol- 
lowing things. 

This  author  fuppofes,  that  fuch  a  neceffity  takes 
place  with  rerpe6i;  to  all  men's  alliens,  as  is  incon- 
liftent  with  liberty,*  and  plainly  denies  that  men 
have  any  liberty  in  a6ling.  Thus  in  p.  168,  after 
he  had  been  fpeaking  of  the  neceflity  of  our  deter- 
minations, as  conneded  with  motives,  he  concludes 

*  P.  160,  161,  164,  16^,  and  many  other  placts. 


(    -392     ) 

Wfih  fayln;^^  <'  In  fl^crt,  if  motives  are  not  under  oiir 
povvcr  ordiie^ioft,  which  is  confeffedly  the  fad,  we 
can  at  botrorri  liAVe-^— — no  LiiBEktv."  M'hereas,  I 
have  abundantly  exprelfed  it  as  my  mind,  that  man, 
in  his  moral  adions,  has  true  hberfy  ;  and  that  the 
inoraJ  nectfllty,  which  univerfall)'  takes  plac^,  ii  not 
in  the  lead  inconhilcnt  with  any  thing  that  is  prop- 
erly called  liberty,  and  with  the  utmolt  liberty  tliac 
ican  be  deli  red,  or  that  can  pollibly  exift  or  be  con- 
ceived of.* 

^  I  find  that  fome  are  apt  to  think,  that  in  that  kind 
xjf  jtioral  neceffity  of  men's  volitions,  whidh  I  fupi. 
-ppfe  to  be  univerlal,  at  lead  fome  degree  of  liberty 
is. denied  :  that  though  it  be  true  I  allow  a  fort  of 
liberty,  yet  thofe  Vvho  .maintain  a  felf- determining 
power  in  the  Will,  and  a  liberty  of  contingence  and 
indifference,  hold  an  higher  fort  of  freedom  tlian  I 
do  :   but  I  think  this  is  certainly  a  great  millake. 

Liberty,  as  1  have  explained  it,  in  p  38,  and  oth- 
er places,  is  the  power,  opportunity,  or  advantage,  that 
any  one  has  to  do  as  he  plcajcs,  or  condwjiing  in  any 
RESPi-XT,  according  to  h-s  phafure  ;  without  confider- 
ing  how  his  plcalure  comes  to  be  as  it  is.  It  is  de- 
monflrable,  and,  I  think,  has  been  demonftratedj 
that  no  neccility  of  men's  volitions  that  1  maintain, 
is  inconrin:ent  with  this  liberty  :  and  I  think  it  is 
impoflible  for  any  one  to  rife  higher  in  his  concep- 
tions of  liberty  than  this  :  If  any  imagine  they  de- 
lire  higher,  and  that  they  conceive  of  a  higher. and 
greater  liberty  than  this,  they  are  deceived,  and  delude 
themfelves  with  confufed  ambiguous  words,  inftead 
of  ideas.  If  any  onz  fhould  here  (dy,  "  Yes,  I  con- 
ceive of  a  freedom  above  and  beyond  the  liberty  a 
man  has  of  conducing  in  any  refpetl  as  he  pleal'es, 

*   Inquiry,   P.    38—43,   186,    187,    278  —  288,    3C0,    307. 
326—35^. 


I 


(     393     ) 

m,  a  liberty  of  chopf,ng  as  he  plcife?;."  Such  nn  rft-^, 
if  he   rcflcdcd,    would   either  bltifh  or  huiL;h  at  his 
own  inllance.      For,   is  not  choofing   as  he""  plcafes, 
concluding,    in    som.^    respect,    according    to     his 
plcafure,  and  ftill  without  determining  how  he  came 
by  that  plealure  ?   If  he  fays.  "  Yes.  1  came  by   that 
plealure  by  my    own  choice.'*      If   he    be  a  mnn    of 
common  lenfe,    by  this  time  he  will    fee  his  own  ai)- 
lurdiry  :   for  he    mud  needs  fee    that   his  nofion    or 
conception,  even   of  this   hberty,   docs   not  contain 
any  judgment  or  conception  how  he  comes   by  ihat 
choice,  which  firft  determines  his  pleafare.  or  which 
originally    fixed   his  own  will    lefpcding   the  affair. 
Or  if  any  (hall  fay.  "  That  a  man  exercifes  hberty  ia 
this,  even  in  determining  hi^  own  choice,  bur  not  as 
he  pleafes,  or  not  in  conltqnence  of  a:.iv  choice,  pre- 
ference, or  inclination  cf  his  own,    bat   by  a  defer- 
inination  arifing  contingcnily  on'  of  a  Rate  of  abfo^ 
lute  indifference  ;"  this  is  not  rifing  higher  in  his  con- 
ception of   liberty  :   as  fuch  a   determination  of    liie 
Will  would  not  be  a  voluntary    determination  of  it. 
Surely    he  that  places   jiberfy   in  a    power  of   doing 
fomething  not  according  to  his  own  choice,   or  Irom 
bis  choice,  has  not  a  higher  notion  of  it.  than  jbethat 
places  it  in  doing   as  he  pleaies,    or  adding  from   his 
own  eledion.      If  there  were  a  power  in   the    mind 
to  determine   itfelf,  but  not  by  its  choice  or  accord- 
ins  to  its  pleafure,    what  advantajze   would  it  aive  ? 
And  what  liberty,  worth  contending  for.   would   be 
exercifed  in  it  ?   Therefore  no  Arminian,  Pelagian,  or 
Epicurean,  can  rife  higher  in  his  conceptions  of  lib- 
erty, than  the  notion  of  it  which  I  have   explained  : 
which  notion  is  apparently,  peife6l]y  confident  with 
the  v/hole  of   that  neceffity  of  men's   adions,   wliich 
I  fuppofe  takes  place.    (And  iTcruple  not  to  fay.   it 
is  beyond  all  their  wifs  to  invciU  a  higher  nriicn.  or 
form  a  hipher  imagination  of  libeily  ;  ict  ihcm   talk 

D3 


(     391     ) 

o{  fovereignty  of  the  Will,  f elf- determining  power,  felj^ 
'motion,  Jelf-direflion,  arbitrary  decifion,  liberty  ad 
uf  rum  vis,  power  of  choojing  dijfcrerdly  in,  given  cafes. 
Sec.  Sec.  as  long  as  rhey  will.  It  is  apparent  that 
thefe  rnen,  in  their  (Irenuous  affirmation,  and  clif- 
pute  about  thefe  things,  aim  at  they  know  not  what, 
fighting  for  fomething  they  have  no  conception  of, 
fubftituiin^  a  number  of  confufcd  unmeaning  words, 
inftead  of  things,  and  inftead  of  thoughts  They 
may  be  challenged  clearly  to  explain  what  they 
would  have  :   thev  never  can  anfwer  the  challenge. 

The  Author  of  the  Effuys^  through  his  whole  ElTay 
on  Liberty  and  Necefiiiy,  goes  on  that  fuppofition, 
that,  in  order  to  the  being  of  real  liberty,  a  man  muft 
have  a  freedom  that  is  oppoftd  to  moral  necefiity  : 
andyet  he  fuppofes,  p.  175,  ih 2it  fuch  a  liberty  mufl Jig- 
nify  a  power  in  the  mind  of  aEling  without  and  againfl 
motives,  a  powef  of  acling  without  any  view^  purpofc,  or 
defign,  and  even  of  adding  in  contradiction  to  our  own  de- 
fires  and  averjions,  and  to  all  our  principles  of  aclion  ; 
and  is  an  abfurdity  altogether  inconfiflent  with  a  rational 
nature.  Now,  who  ever  imagined  fuch  a  liberty  as 
this,  a  higher  fort  or  degree  of  freedom,  than  a  liber- 
ty of  following  one's  own  views  and  purpofes,  and 
a6ting  agreeable  to  his  own  inclinations  and  pafhons  ? 
Who  will  ever  reafonably  fuppofe  that  liberty,  which 
is  an  abfurdity  altogether  inconfifl^mt  with  a  ration- 
al nature,  to  be  a  kind  "f  liberty  above  that  which  is 
confident  with  the  nature  of  a  rational,  intelligent, 
defigning  agent  ? 

The  Author  of  the  EJfays  (eems  to  fuppofe  fuch  a 
neceffity  to  take  place,  as  is  inconfiftem  with  fome 
luppofable  Power  uf  arbitrary  Chuicil  ;*  or  that 
there  is  fome  liberty  conceivable,  wheieby  men's  own 
aftions  mioht  be  more  prupkrlv  in  their  Pow£R,i' 
and  by  which  events  might  be  more  dependent  on 

*  P.  169.        +  P.  191,  19^,  197,  206. 


> 


(     395     ) 

OURSKLVES;*  con^rnry  to  wjiat  I  fappofc  ^o  be  evi- 
dent in  my  Inquiry. -^  iVhat  way  can  be  imagined, 
of  our  aciions  being  more  m  our  power  ^  from  oiirjtkrs, 
or  depend  on  cw^ftlves,  than  their  bein^  from  our  pow- 
er to  fulfil  our  own  choice,  to  aQ  from  our  own  in- 
clination, pujfue  our  own  views,  and  execute  our 
own  defign.v  ?  Certainly,  to  be  able  to  atl  thus,  is  as 
properly  having  our  a61ions  in  our  power,  and  de- 
pendent on  ourfelves,  as  a  being  liable  to  be  the  fub- 
je6ls  of  ads  and  events,  contingently  and  fortuitouf- 
ly,  without  dffire.  view  purpoje  or  defign,  or  any  prin- 
cipleoJaEiion  within  ourlelves  ;  as  we  muff  be  accord- 
ing to  this  Author's  own  declared  fenfe,  if  our  ac- 
tions aie  performed  with  that  liberty  that  is  oppofed 
to  moral  nectlCty. 

This  i\uthor  feems  every  where  to  fuppofe,  that 
neceffity,  mofi:  properly  fo  called,  attends  all  men's 
a6lions;  and  that  the  terms  neceJfary.u?iavoidable,  im- 
pojfible.  Sec.  are  equally  applicable  to  the  cafe  of 
moral  and  natural  necciTity,  In  p.  173,  he  fays. 
The  idea  of  neceflary  and  unavoidable,  equally  agrees, 
both  to  moral  and  phyfical  nccejfity.  And  in  p.  184, 
All  things  that  Jail  out  in  the  natural  and  7}ioral  zoorld  arc 
alike  necejjary.  P.  174,  This  inclination  and  choice  zs 
unavoidably  caufed  or  occafioned  by  the  prevailing  mo^ 
live.  In  this  lies  the  necejfity  of  our  aciions,  that,  in  fuck 
circumflanceSy  it  xvas  impolfibie  we  could  acl  otherwife. 
He  often  exprelfes  himfelf  in  like  manner  ellewhere, 
fpeaking  in  ftrong  terms  of  men's  actions  asitnavoida' 
hie,  what  thev  cannot  forbear,  having  no  power  over 
their  own  anions,  the  order  of  them  being  unalterably 
fixed  and  infeparably  linked  together,  ^c  [f 

On  the  conrrary,  1  have  largely  declared,  that  the 
connexion  between  antecedent  things  and  confe- 
quent  ones,  which  takes  place  with  regard  to  the  a6ls 

*  P.  183.  +  P.  305,  396.  X  P.  i«o,  188,  i93,  1^4.  195. 
I97«  J9S»  J99»  205»  206. 


f 


(  396  ) 

of  metj's  Wills,  which  is  called  moral  neceffity,  is  calU 
ed  by  ihe  name  o^  necfjfuy  improperly;  and  that  all 
luch  revms  as  mvfl  can>.ot.  impoffible,  unable,  irrefijli^ 
lie,  unavoidable.  mvincibU,  idc.  when  applied  here,  are 
not  applied  in  their  prop;:;r  fij^nificarion,  and  are  ei- 
ther ufv!d  nonfendca'ly,  and  with  perfe6l  infignifi- 
cance,  or  in  a  Icfnie  Cjuite  divcrfe  from  their  original 
and  pK)p  r  meaning,  and  rheir  ufe  in  common 
fpctch  :*  and.  that  fuch  a  neceiruy  as  attends  the 
a£ts  oi  men'.s  Wills,  iii  more  properly  called  c^r/jz/z^j;, 
ihan  ntcrjjity  ;  it  being  no  other  than  the  certain  con- 
nexion be  ween  the  fubjefct  and  predicate  of  the 
piopohtiun  which  affirms  their  exifience.t 

Agreeable  to  what  is  obferved  in  my  Inquiry.^  I 
think  it  is  evidently  owing  to  a  ftrong  prejudice  in 
perfons  minds,  arifing  from  an  infenfible  habitual 
perverfion  and  mifcipplica'ion  of  fuch-liketerms  aswc- 
cejfary.  iriipoJTible,  unable,  unavoidable,  invincible,  &c, 
thd  they  a»e  ready  to  think,  that  to  fuppole  a  cer- 
tain connexion  of  men's  volitions,  without  any  fore- 
going motives  or  inclinations,  or  any  preceding  mor- 
al influence  whatloever,  is  truly  and  properly  to  fup- 
poje  fuch  a  Itrong  inefragable  chain  of  caufes  and 
tftedls,  as  (lands  in  the  way  of,  and  makes  u'terly 
vain,  oppoiite  defires  and  endeavours,  like  immov- 
able and  impenetrable  mountains  of  brafs  ;  and  im- 
pedes our  liberty  like  walls  of  adamant,  gates  of 
brafs,  and  bars  of  iron  :  whereas,  all  fuch  reprefent- 
ations  luggeil  ide-^s  as  far  from  the  truth,  as  the  Eafl 
is  from  the  VVefl.  No>hing  that  I  maintain,  iup- 
pofes  that  men  are  at  all  hindered  by  any  fatal  necef- 
^  lity,  from  doing,  and  even  willing  and  cho'ofing  as 
they  pleafe,  with  full  freedom  ;  yea  with  the  highefl 
degree  of  liberty  that  ever    was  thought  of,    or  that 

*  Inquiry,?    17— 2y,    JO,  31, 32,    33.  2-1.  ?  »3.  267— 271, 
5:74,    ^i— iii^S.  367,  36b.  t  Inquiry,  P.  ax— 23, 

iK  267.-271. 


{     397     ) 

ever  could  pofTibly  enter  into  the  hc.irt  of  any  man 
to  conceive)  I  know  it  is  in  vain  to  endeavour  to 
make  lorne  perfons  believe  this,  or  at  Icafl  fully  and 
ileadily  to  believe  it  :  for  if  it  be  dcmonflratcd  to 
them,  llill  the  old  prejudice  remains,  which  has  been 
long  fixed  by  the  ufe  of  the  terms  nectjfary,  iiiujl,  can- 
not,  impojfiblc^  &c.  the  aflociation  with  thefe  terms  of 
certain  ideas,  inconfiilent  with  liberty,  is  not  broken  ; 
and  the  judgment  is  powerfully  warped  by  it;  as  a 
thing  that  has  been  long  bent  and  grown  (lifF,  if  it  be 
ftraightened,  will  return  to  its  former  curvity  again 
*ind  again. 

The  Author  of  the  EJfays  mofl  manifeflly  fuppofes 
that  if  men  had  the  truth  concerning  the  real  necclii- 
ly  of  all  their  anions  cleaily  in  view,  they  would  not 
appear  to  thernfelves,  or  one  another,  as  at  all  praifc- 
worthy  or  culpable,  or  under  any  moral  obligation, 
or  accountable  for  their  a61ions  :*  which  fuppules, 
that  men  are  not  to  be  blamed  or  praifed  for  any  of 
their  adions,  and  are  not  under  any  obligations,  nor 
are  truly  accountable  for  any  thing  they  do,  by  rea- 
fon  of  this  necefifity  ;  which  is  very  contrary  to  what 
I  have  endeavoured  to  prove,  throughout  the  third 
part  of  my  Inquiry.  1  humbly  conceive  it  is  there 
fhewn,  that  this  is  fo  far  from  the  truth,  that  the  mor- 
al neceffity  of  men's  a6>ions,  v/hich  truly  take  place, 
is  requifite  to  the  being  of  virtue  and  vice,  or  any 
thing  praife-worthy  or  culpable  :  that  the  liberty  of 
indifference  and  contingence,  which  is  advanced  in 
oppofirion  to  that  neceflity,  is  inconfiftent  with  the 
being  of  thefe  ;  as  it  would  iuppoie  that  men  are  not 
determined  in  what  they  do,  by  any  virtuous  or  vi- 
cious principles,  nor  a6l  from  any  motives,  intentions 
or  aims  whaifoever  ;  or  have  any  end,  cither  good  or 
bad,  in  adling.  And  is  it  not  remarkable,  that  this 
Author  fhould  fuppole,  that,  in  order  to  men's  a61ion« 

*  P.  207,  209,  ana  other  place*. 


(     398     ) 

truly  having  any  defert.  they  mu/lfce  performed  zi;zV/z- 
cut  any  view,  purpofe,  dtfign.  or  defire,  or  any  principle  of 
adion,  or  any  thing  agreeable  to  a  rational  nature  ?  As 
It  will  appear  that  he  does,  if  we  compare  p.  206, 
207,  with  p.  175. 

The  Author  of  the  Ejfays  fuppofes,  that  God  has 
deeply  implanted  in  man's  nature,  a  (Irong  and  in- 
vincible apprehenfion,  or  feeling,  as  he  calls  ii,  of  a 
liberty,  and  contingence,  of  his  own  a6lions,  oppoftre 
to  that  neceflity  which  truly  attends  them  ;  and  which 
in  truth  does  not  agree  with  real  fa6l  a,  is  not  agree- 
able to  ftrid  philofophic  truth  h,  is  contradictory  to 
the  truth  of  things  c,  and  which  truth  contradicts  d, 
not  tallying  with  the  real  plan  e:  and  that  therefore 
fuch  feelings  are  deceitful^,  are  in  reality  of  the  de- 
lufive  kind  g.  He  fpeaks  of  them  as  a  wife  dclufion 
A,  as  nice  artificial  feelings,  merely  that  confcience 
may  have  a  commanding  power  2:  meaning  plainly, 
that  thefe  feelings  are  a  cunning  artifice  of  the  Author 
pf  Nature,  to  make  men  believe  they  are  free,  when 
they  are  not  k.  He  fuppofes  that,  by  thefe  feelings, 
the  moral  world  has  a  difguifed  appearance  /.  And 
<>ther  things  of  this  kind  he  fays.  He  fuppofes  that 
all  felf-approbation,  and  all  remorfe  of  confcience,  all 
commendanon  or  condemnation  of  oui  (elves  or  oth- 
ers, all  fenfe  of  defert,  and  all  that  is  conneCted  with 
this  way  of  thinking,  all  the  ideas,  which  at  prefenfc 
are  fuggefted  by  the  words  ought,  Jhoidd,  arife  frorn 
this  delufion  and  would  entirely  vanifh  without  it  m. 

All  which  is  very  contrary  to  what  I  have  abun- 
dantly infiftedon  and  endeavoured  to  demonflrate  in 
xny  Inquiry;  where  I  have  largely  fliewn,  that  it  is 
agreeable  to  the  natural  fenfe  of  mankind,  that  the 
jnoral    necefhty    or    certainty  that  attends  men's  ac- 

aP.  200.     ^P.  152.       cP.  183.      ^P.  i86.      tf  P.  205. 
j^P.  203,  204»  21 1.     ^P.  183.     hP.Qog.      2  P.  211.     ^  P. 
^^3.    /P.  214.     m  P.  160,  194,  199,  20^,  ao6.  209. 


(     399     ) 

tlons,  is  confident  with  praifeand  binme,  rcivarcl  and 
punifliment  a  ;  and  that  it  is  acireeable  to  ournntur- 
al  notions,  that  moral  evil,  with  its  defcMt  of  diflike 
and  abhorrence,  and  all  its  other  ill-dtferving";,  con- 
fids  in  a  certain  deformity  in  ihe  nature  of  the  difpo- 
fitions  and  ads  of  the  heart,  and  not  in  the  evil  of 
fomethiniT  eUe,  divcrfi!  from  theie,  fuppufcd  to  be 
their  caufv^  or  occafion  b- 

I  might  well  alk  here,  whether  any  one  is  to  be 
found  in  the  world  of  mankind,  who  is  confcious  to 
a  fenfe  or  feeling,  naturally  and  deeply  rooted  in  his 
mind,  that,  in  order  to  a  man's  performin!^  any  action 
that  is  praife  or  blame-worthy,  he  mud  exercife  a 
liberty  that  implies  and  fignihes  a  power  of  aOing 
without  any  motive,  view,  defign,  dehre,  or  princi- 
ple of  adion  ?  For  fuch  a  liberty,  this  Author  fup- 
pofes,  that  mud  be  which  is  oppofed  to  moral  necef- 
fify,  as  1  have  already  obO-^rved  once  and  again. — 
Suppofmg  a  man  diould  a6tuaily  do  good,  indepen- 
dent of  defire,  aim,  inducement,  principle  or  end,  is 
it  a  didare  of  invincible  natural  lonfe,  that  his  a6l  is 
more  meritorious  or  praife-worthy,  than  if  he  had 
performed  it  for  fome  good  end,  asid  had  been  gov- 
erned in  it  by  good  principles  and  raotives?  and  lb  I 
might  afk,  on  the  contrary,  with  reipccl  to  evil  ac- 
tions c. 

The  Author  of  the  It^J^^y^  fuppofcs  that  the  liber- 
ty without  necedity,  which  we  have  a  natural  feeling 
of,  implies  contrngence :  and,  fpeaking  of  this  contin- 
gence,  he  fomctimes  calls  it  by  the  name  of  chance. 
And  it  is  evident,  that  his  noiion  of  it,  or  ratlierwhat 
he    fays  about   it,    implies    things  happening  loofely, 

a  Inquiry  Part  IV.  Sc61.  4.  throughouf.  b  Idem,  Part  IV. 
Sect.  I.  ihioughour,  and  P.  36,5— 3^'^-  ^  ^'•'^  '^^'*  Matter 
illuftratcd  in  mv  Inquiry,  Pait  IV.  SctL  4.  efpccially,  P.  279 
—£81. 


(     4C0     ) 

foriuitoujly ,  by  accident^  arr^  without  a  caufc*  No'.v  I 
conceive  the  flighteft  refletlion  may  be  fadicient  to 
fatisfy  any  one,  that  fuch  a  contingence  of  men's  ac- 
tions, according  to  our  natural  fenfe,  is  fo  far  from  be- 
ing elTential  to  the  morality  or  merit  of  thoTe  a6lions, 
that  it  would  deftroy  it ;  and  that,  on  the  contrary, 
the  dependence  of  our  a6lions  on  fuch  caufes,  as  in- 
ward inclinations,  incitements  and  ends,  is  elTential 
to  the  being  of  it.  Natural  fenfe  teaches  men,  when 
they  fee  any  thing  done  by  others  of  a  good  or  evil 
tendency,  to  inquire  wh^t  their  intention  was;  what 
principles  and  views  they  were  moved  by,  in  order 
to  judge  how  far  they  are  to  be  juftified  or  condemn* 
cd  i  and  not  to  determine,  that,  in  order  to  their  be^ 
ing  approved  or  blamed  at  all,  the  a6lion  mud  be 
performed  altogether  fortuitoufly,  proceeding  from 
nothing,  arifing  from  no  caufe.  Concerning  this 
matter,  I  have  fully  exprelFed  my  mind  in  the  In* 
quiyy.f 

If  the  liberty,  which  we  have  a  natural  fenfe  of  a-; 
neceOTary  to  defert,  confiils  in  the  mind's  felf-deter- 
mination,  without  being  determined  by  pre^'ious  in- 
clination or  motive,  then  indifference  is  effential  to 
it,  yea  abfolute  indilFerence  ;  as  is  obferved  in  my 
Inquiry.^  But  men  naturally  have  no  notion  of  any 
fuch  liberty  as  this,  as  elTential  to  the  morality  or 
demerit  of  their  actions;  but,  on  the  contrary,  fuch 
a  liberty,  if  it  were  polTible.  would  be  inconfiflent 
with  our  natural  noiions  of  defert,  as  is  largf^lv  fliown 
in  the  Inquiry.^  If  it  be  agreeable  to  natural  [Qr\\c^ 
that  men  mud  be  indifferent  in  determining  their 
own  a6l;ions  ;  then,  according  to  the  fame,  the  more 
they  are  determined  by  inclmation,  either  good  or 
bad,  the  lefs  they  have  of  defert :   the  more  good  ac- 

*  P.  156,  137,  J38.  159,  177*  '7^'  ^81,  183,  184,  185. 

+  P.  039  —  241,  246,  279,  280,  and  other  places. 

4-  p.  83-83. 

\  Efpecially  in  Part  III.  ScQ.  6,  and  7. 


(     401     ) 

i'ons  are  performed  from  good  difpofitlcn,  the  Mi 
praife-worthy  ;  and  the  more  evil  deeds  are  from  evil 
difpofitions,  the  lefs  culpable;  and,  in  general,  the 
more  men's  a6lions  are  from  their  hearts,  the  Icfs 
they  are  to  be  commended  or  condemned:  which 
all  rnufl  know  is  very  contrary  to  natural  fenfe. 

Moral  necefiity  is  owing  to  the  power  and  gov- 
ernment of  the  inclination  of  the  heart,  either  habit- 
ual or  occafional,  excited  by  motive  :  but,  accord- 
ing to  natural  and  common  fenfe,  the  more  a  man 
does  any  thing  with  fall  inclination  of  heart,  the 
more  is  it  to  be  charged  to  his  account  for  his  con- 
demnation, if  it  be  an  ill  aftion,  and  the  more  to  be 
afcribed  to  him  for  his  praife,  if  it  be  good. 

If  the  tnind  were  determined  to  evil  a6iions  hy 
contingence,  from  a  ftate  of  indifference,  then  either 
there  would  be  no  fault  in  them,  or  elfe  the  fault 
would  be  in  being  fo  perfe6lly  indifferent,  that  the 
mind  was  equally  liable  to  a  bad  or  good  determina- 
tion. And,  if  this  indifference  be  liberty,  then  the 
very  effence  of  the  blame  or  fault  would  lie  in  the 
liberty  itfelf,  or  the  wickednefs  would,  primarily  and 
fummarily,  lie  in  being  a  free  agent.  If  there  were 
no  fault  in  heing  indifferent,  then  there  would  be  no 
fault  in  the  determination's  being  agreeable  to  (uch  a 
(late  of  indifference  :  that  is,  there  could  no  fault  bo 
reafonably  found  with  this,  viz.  that  oppofite  deter- 
minations adually  happen  to  take  place  indifferently, 
fometimes  good  and  iometimes  bad,  as  contingence 
governs  and  decides.  And  if  it  be  a  fault  to  be  in* 
different  to  good  and  evil,  then  fuch  indifference  is 
no  indifference  to  good  and  evil,  but  is  a  determina- 
tion to  evil,  or  to  a  fault;  and  fuch  an  indiffcient 
difpofition  would  be  an  evil,  faulty  difpofition,  ten- 
dency or  determination  of  mind.  So  inconfiflent 
are  thefe  notions  of  liberty,  as  effential  to  praiie  or 
blame. 

E3 


(       4^2       ) 

TPie  Author  of  the  EJfays  fuppofes  men's  natural 
delufxve  Icnfe  of  a  liberty  of  coniingence,  to  be,  in 
truth,  the  foundation  of  ail  the  labour,  care  and  in- 
duftry  of  mankind  ;*  and  that  if  men's  praUicalideas 
had  been  formed  en  the  plan  of  univerfal  ncccffity,  the  ig- 
liava  ratio,  the  inaclive  doclrine  of  the  Stoics^  would 
have  folloivcd ;  and  that  there  would  have  been  no  room 
for  forethought  about  futurity,  or  any  fort  of  induflry  and 
care:f  plainly  implying,  that,  in  ihis  cafe,  men  would 
fee  and  know  that  all  their  induiby  and  care  fignifi- 
ed  nothing,  was  in  vain,  and  to  no  puipofe,  or  of  no 
benefit;  events  being  fixed  in  an  irrefragable  chain, 
and  not  at  all  depending  on  their  care  and  endeav- 
our; as  he  explains  himfeif,  particularly  in  the  in- 
llance  of  men's  ufe  of  means  to  prolong  life: J  not 
only  very  contrary  to  v/hat  I  largely  maintain  in  my 
Inquiry,^  but  alfo  very  inconfiftently  with  his  own 
fcheme,  in  what  he  fuppofes  of  the  ends  for  which 
God  has  fo  deeply  implanted  this  deceitful  feeling  in 
man's  nature ;  in  which  he  manifeflly  fuppofes  men's 
care  and  induflry  not  to  be  in  vain  and  of  no  benefit, 
but  of  great  ufe,  yea  or  abfolute  ncceffity,  in  order  to 
the  obtaining  the  moft  important  ends  and  neceflary 
purpofes  of  human  life,  and  to  fulfil  the  ends  of  ac- 
tion to  the  BEST  ADVANTAGE  ;  asbc  largely  declares. [j 
Now,  how  (hall  thefe  things  be  reconciled  ?  That,  if 
men  had  a  clear  view  of  real  truths  they  would  fee  that 
there  was  no  koum  for  their  care  and  induftry,  be- 
caufe  they  would  fee  it  to  be  in  vain,  and  of  no  ben- 
efit;  and  yet  that  God,  by  having  a  clear  view  of 
real  truth,  fees  that  their  being  excited  to  care  and 
induflry,  will  be  of  excellent  ufe  to  mankind,  and 
gre.Jtly  for  the  benefit  of  the  world,  yea  abfolutely 
neceflary  in  order  to  it:  and  that  therefore  the  great 
wildom  and  goodnefs  of  God  to  m.en  appears,  in  art- 

*  P.  184.     +  P.  189.      +  P.  184,  185.      §  Efpecially  Part 
IV.  ISe6L  ^.      II  P.  188 — 192,  and  in  many  other  places. 


(     4^3     ) 

fully  contriving  to  put  them  on  rare  and  in  luflry  for 
their  good,  which  jjood  could  not  be  obiaincd  wiih- 
out  them;   and  yet  both  thcfe  things  are  maintained 
at  once,  and  in  the  fame  fcntences  and  words  by  this 
Author.     The   very   reafon  he  gives,  why  God  has 
put  this  deceitfal  fec^ling  into  men,  ontradids  and 
dellroys  itfelf;   that   God   in  his  great  goodncfs  to 
men  gave  them  luch  a  deceiifiil  toeHng,    bccanfe  it 
was  very  ufeful  and  neccifary  for  them,  and  greatly 
for  their  benefit,  or  excites  them  to  care  and  induHry 
for  their  own  good,  which  care  and  induftty  is  ufe- 
ful  and  neceffaiy  to  that  end  :   and  yet  the  very  thing 
that  this  great  benefit  of  care  and  induilry  is  given 
as  a  reafon  for,  is  God's  deceiving  men  in  this  very 
point,  in  making  them  think  their  care  and  induflry 
.to  be  of  great  benefit  to  them,  when  indeed  it  is  of 
none  at  all  ;  and  if  they  faw  the  real  truth,  they  would 
fee  all  their  endeavours  to  be  wholly  ufelefs,  that  tht-re 
was  NO  ROOM  for  them,  and  that  the  event  does  not 
at  all  DEPEND  upon  them  a. 

And  befidcs,  what  this  author  fays,  plainly  implies 
(as  appears  by  what  has  been  already  obferved)  that 
it  is  neceCTary  men  (liould  be  deceived,  by  being  made 
to  believe  that  future  events  are  contingent,  and 
their  own  future  adions  free,  with  fuch  a  freedom, 
as  fignifies  that  their  actions  are  not  the  fruit  of  their 
own  defires,  or  defigns,  but  altogether  contingent, 
fortuitous,  and  without  a  caufe.  But  how  fliould  a 
notion  of  liberty,  confiding  in  accident  or  loole 
chance,  encourage  care  and  induflry  ?  I  Ihould  think 
think  it  would  rather  entirely  difcourage  every  thmg 
of  this  nature.  For  furely,  if  our  anions  do  not  de- 
pend on  our  endeavours,  (lowing  from  our  defires 
and  defigns.  This  Author  himlelf  feems  to  fuppolc, 
that  if  men  had,  indeed,  fuch  a  liberty  of  contin- 
gence,  it  would  render  all  endeavours  to  determine 

flP.  188.  189,  &c. 


f  404   ) 

or  move  men's  future  volitions,  in  vain :  he  fays, 
that,  in  this  cafe,  to  exhort,  to  inJlruB.  to  promife,  or  to 
ihrtatm,  would  be  to  no  purpofe.^  Why  ?  Becaufe,  (as 
he  himfeU  gives  the  reafon)  then  our  Will  would  beca" 
^vicious  and  arbitrary,  and  wejhould  be  thrown  lo of c  alto- 
gether, and  our  arbitrary  power  could  do  us  good  or  ill  only 
by  accident.  But  if  fuch  a  loofe  fortuitous  (late  would 
tender  vain  other  endeavours  upon  us,  for  the  fame 
realon  would  it  make  ufelefs  our  endeavours  on  our- 
felves  :  for  events  that  are  truly  contingent  and  acci- 
dental, and  altogether  loofe  from,  and  independent  of^ 
^11  foregoing  caufes,  ave  independent  on  every  fore* 
going  caufe  within  ourfelves,  as  well  as  in  others. 

I  fuppofe  that  it  is  fo  far  from  being  true,  that  our 
minds  are  naturally  pofleiTed  with  a  notion  of  fuch 
liberty  as  this,  fo  ilrongly,  that  it  is  impoflible  to 
root  it  out  ;  that  indeed  men  have  no  fuch  notion  oif 
liberty  at  all,  and  that  it  is  utterly  impoffible,  by  any 
jneans  whatfoever,  to  implant  or  introduce  fuch  a 
notion  into  the  mind.  Ai»  no  fuch  notions  as  imply 
feifcontradi£l;on  and  felf-abolition  can  fubfift  in  the 
mind,  as  I  have  fhewn  in  my  Inquiry  ;t  I  think  a 
mature  fenfible  confideration  of  the  matter,  fuflicient 
to  fatisfy  any  one,  that  even  the  greateft  and  mofl 
learned  advocates  themfelves  for  liberty  of  indiEFer^ 
ence  and  felf-determination,  have  no  fuch  notion  ; 
and  that  indeed  they  mean  fomething  wholly  incon- 
fiflent  with,  and  diredly  fubverfive  of,  what  they 
ftrenuoufly  affirm,  and  earneiliy  contend  for.  ^y  a 
inan's  having  a  power  of  determining  his  own  Will, 
they  plainly  mean  a  power  of  determining  his  Will, 
as  he  pleafes.  or  as  he  choofes  ;  which  fuppofes  that 
the  mmd  has  a  choice,  prior  to  its  going  about  to 
confirm  any  a6lion  or  determination  to  it.  And  if 
ihey  mean  that  they  determine  even  the  original  or 

*  P.  166,  198,  199.         +  P.  238.  239.     See  alfo  P.  46,  53* 
^4.  63.  7o»  73»  »70-^474,  2^0,  ji.()i,  8;:5--278, 


(     405     ) 

prime  choice,  by  their  own  pleafurc  or  choice,  as  the 
thing  thrtt  caults  and  diiefts  it  ;  1  fcruple  not  mofl 
boldly  to  affirm,  that  they  fpeak  they  know  not  what, 
and  that  ot  which  they  have  no  manner  of  idea  ;  bc- 
caule  no  i'uch  contradi6lory  notion  can  come  into, 
or  have  a  moment's  fubhltence  in,  the  mind  of  any 
man  living,  as  an  original  or  firft  choice  being  cauf- 
cd,  or  brought  into  being,  by  choice.  After  all,  they 
fay,  they  have  no  higher  or  other  conception  of  lib- 
erty, than  ihat  vulgar  notion  of  it,  which  I  contend 
for,  viz.  a  man's  having  power  or  opportunity  to  do 
as  he  choofes  :  or  if  they  had  a  notion  that  every  a6i; 
of  choice  was  deterrriined  by  choice,  yet  it  would  def- 
troy  their  notion  of  the  contingence  of  choice  ;  for 
then  no  one  a6l  of  choice  would  arife  contingently, 
or  from  a  ftate  of  indifference,  but  every  individual 
ad,  in  all  the  leries,  would  arife  from  foregoing  bias 
or  preference,  and  from  a  caufe  predetermining  and 
fixing  its  exiflence,  which  introduces  at  once  fuch  at 
chain  of  caufes  and  effeds,  each  preceding  link  de- 
cifivcly  fixing  the  following,  aa  they  would  by  all 
means  avoid. 

And  fuch  kind  of  delufion  and  ^elf-contradidion 
as  this,  does  not  arife  in  men's  minds  by  nature  :  it 
is  not  owing  to  any  natural  feeling  which  God  has 
(Irongiy  fixed  in  the  mind  and  nature  of  man  ;  but 
to  ialie  philofophy,  and  iliong  prejudice,  from  a  de- 
ceitlul  abufe  of  words.  It  \s  artificial ;  not  in  ihc 
fenfe  of  the  Author  of  the  £j/ays,  luppoCng  it  to  be 
a  deceitful  artifice  of  God  ;  but  artificial  as  oppofed 
to  natural,  and  as  owing  to  an  artificial  deceitful  man- 
agement of  terms,  to  daiktn  and  confoupd  the  mind. 
Men  have  no  fuch  thing  when  they  fnfl  begin  to  ex- 
ercife  reafon  ;  but  mufl  have  a  great  deal  of  time  to 
blind  thcmfelvesjwith  metaphyficalconluGon, before 
they  can  embrace,  and  leil  in  iu(ii(kfir:ii ions  of  liberty 
as  are  given,  and  imagine  they  imdeiftand  them. 


(     4o6     ) 

On  the  whole,  I  humbly  conceive,  that  v/hofoever 
will  give  himlelf  the  trouble  of  weighing  what  I 
have  oftered  to  confideration  in  my  Inquiry,  mufl:  be 
fenhble,  that  inch  a  moral  necellity  ot  rncn's  attions 
as  I  maintain,  is  not  at  all  inconfiftent  with  any  lib- 
erty that  any  creature  has,  or  can  have,  as  a  free,  ac- 
countable, moral  agent,  and  fubje^t  of  moral  gov- 
ernment ;  and  that  this  moral  necclfity  is  fo  far  from 
being  inconliftent  with  praife  and  blame,  and  the 
benefit  and  ufe  of  men's  own  care  and  labour,  that, 
on  the  contrary,  it  implies  the  very  ground  and  rea- 
ft>n,  why  men's  a6lions  are  to  be  aicribed  to  them  as 
their  own,  in  that  manner  as  to  infer  defert,  praife 
and  blame,  approbation  and  remorfe  of  confcience, 
reward  and  punifh:nent  ;  and  that  it  eflabliQies  the 
moral  fyftem  of  the  uuiverfe,  and  God's  moral  gov- 
ernment, in  every  rerpe6t,  with  the  power  and  ufc 
of  motives, exhortations,  commands, counfels, prom- 
ifes,  and  threatenings  ;  and  the  ufe  and  benefit  of 
endeavours,  care  and  induftry  :  and  that  therefore 
there  is  no  need  that  the  ftri6t  philofophic  truth 
fhould  be  at  all  concealed  from  men  ;  no  danger  ia 
cmtemplation  and  profound  di/covery  in  thefe  things. 
So  far  from  this,  that  the  truth  in  this  matter  is  of 
vaft  importance,  and  extremely  needful  to  be  known  ; 
and  that  the  more  clearly  and  perfectly  the  real  fadl 
is  known,  and  the  more  conflantly  it  is  in  view,  the 
better;  and  particularly,  that  the  clear  and  full 
knowledge  of  that,  which  is  the  true  fyftem  of  the 
univerfe,  in  thefe  refpeds,  would  greatly  eftablilh 
the  do6lrines  which  teach  the  true  Chriftian  fcheme 
of  Divine  A:lminiftration  in  the  city  of  God,  and  the 
Gofpel  of  Jefus  Chnft,  in  its  moll  important  arti- 
cles; and  that  thefe  things  never  can  be  well  eflab- 
lifh^d,  and  the  oppofite  errors,  lo  fubverfive  of  the 
whole  Gofpel,  which  at  this  day  fo  greatly  and  gen- 
erally prevail,  be  well  confuted,  or  the  arguments 


(     4^7     ) 

by  which  they  are  maintained,  anfivered,  till  thcfe 
points  are  fettled  :  while  tliis  is  not  done,  it  is,  to 
me,  beyond  doubt,  that  the  friends  of  thofe  great 
Gofpel  Truths,  will  but  poorly  maintain  their  con- 
troverfy  with  the  adverfaries  of  thofc  truths  :  they 
will  be  obliged  often  to  dodge,  fhuffle,  hide,  and 
turn  their  backs  ;  and  the  latter  will  have  a  (Irong 
fort,  from^  ly hence  they  never  can  be  driven,  and 
weapons  tr)ufe,  which  thofe  whom  they  oppofe  will 
find  no  fhield  to  fcreen  themfelvcs  from;  and  they 
Tvill  always  puzzle,  confound,  and  keep  under  the 
friends  of  found  do6lrine;  and  glory,  and  vaunt 
themfelves  in  their  advantage  over  them;  and  carry 
their  affairs  with  an  high  hand,  as  they  have  done 
already  for  a  long  time  pad:. 

I  conclude,  Sir,  with  aiking  your  pardon  for 
troubling  you  with  fo  much  faid  in  vindication  of 
tnyfelf  from  the  imputation  of  advancing  a  fcheme 
of  necefiity,  of  a  like  nature  with  that  of  the  Author 
of  the  EJjays  on  the  Principles  of  Morality  and  Natural 
Religion.  Conhdering  that  what  I  have  faid  is  not 
only  in  vindication  of  myfcif,  but,  as  I  think,  of  the 
mod  important  articles  of  moral  philofophy  and 
religion  ;  I  trufl  in  what  I  knov7  of  your  candour, 
that  you  will  excufe, 

Your  obliged  friaid  and  hr'other, 

J.   EDWARDS. 

Stockt»ridge, 

.1^^725,1757. 


FINIS. 


Date  Due 


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